Darkness to Dawn
by DarkAngel555
Summary: His thoughts swam underneath the agony, each pulse scattering any coherency that gathered in his brain. Tangy blood gathered around his tongue, the tip throbbing in protest."So, Edward? Will you join us?"-"Oh, God," Roy whispered. "Don't let me fail again. Not for Ed, he's like my son." Parental!Roy/Ed. Torture. No pairings, just suggestions. Premanga/brotherhood. Rating may go up.
1. Chapter 1

_DA: Well hello there! I'm still seminew to this fandom, but some of you might know me from my oneshot "Surface Appearances". I got this idea at the start of last semester and the ideas kept coming, with the amazing help of my best friend Sunny. This is my first major project for this fandom so I'm a little nervous. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, which is probably a good thing. Hehe_

_Anyways, without any further ado, I unveil the first chapter of my newest creation: _**Darkness to Dawn**!

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Darkness to Dawn

Chapter 1

Ed walked down the path, seemingly proud, confident, and full of energy, but the people who knew him best could see the barely perceptible slouch to his shoulders, the slight stumble to his step. His eyes, normally a bright and cheerful gold, were dulled and exhausted. Colonel Roy Mustang stood, waiting for the boy, at the entrance to the camp, immaculately dressed as always, though he emitted waves of the same exhaustion that the teen was feeling. First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was positioned at his right shoulder, her hand never straying too far from the grey handgun holstered on her belt. At Ed's back, Havoc and Breda were arguing, their eyes strangely looking everywhere but at each other.

The younger alchemist sighed, making a pained effort to pull himself up straighter in front of his commanding officer. Placing his hands heavily onto his hips, he glared at Mustang, but not before doing a quick sweep over the man. The dark-haired man caught himself preforming the same act, his eyes narrowing suspiciously out of habit. Worry, however, churned in his gut at the boy's appearance. His trademark red cloak was torn and stained a darker shade of scarlet in several places, the black clothing under it not faring much better. The white gloves were missing, the metal of the automail flashing in the weak sunlight whenever his hand moved. Ed's visage was pale and bruised, splotches of black and purple splashing across the visible skin. "Fullmetal," the Colonel greeted, forcing some false amusement into his voice. At the title, Edward scowled furiously, formerly deep and dark eyes igniting with annoyance.

"Bastard," he replied, copying Mustang's tone. The older man resisted the urge to roll his eyes in exasperation, internally glad at the semblance of normalcy. "It seems your day was better than mine as usual. Did you set yourself up with the cushy job on purpose because you're useless?" He sighed, unable to keep his lips from twitching.

"You know as well as I do, Fullmetal, that the higher ups assign orders to soldiers who would best suit the job. It's not my fault you excel at destruction."

"Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you slack off just so you don't get assigned the tough jobs. Are they getting to be too much for you, old man?" The 'old man' was suddenly struck with an eye spasm, his mouth forming a warning scowl. But it was already too late. The first blow had been struck. "You really should start watching what you do. Your body can't handle missions like you used to, what with aging and all. So perhaps it's best if I take all the hard missions. Wouldn't want you to break something."

"For your information, Fullmetal, the jobs I'm given require a certain amount of finesse, not like I'd expect someone of your stature to understand. You would be simply overlooked on one of these jobs." The spectators winced internally at the throbbing vein in Ed's forehead. It would only escalate from here.

"WHO'RE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT YOU'D NEED A MAGNIFYING GLASS TO SEE?!" came the enraged roar that everyone was waiting for. "I'd do your jobs a hundred times better than you ever would. And you know it. Who's the prodigy here?" An automail finger jabbed the older man in the chest, golden eyes glaring into dark orbs. Mustang opened his mouth to voice his opinion on the matter when someone cleared their throat.

"Excuse me, Edward, but the Colonel has somewhere to be. And you look like you could use a change of clothes," Hawkeye interrupted politely, though her chestnut eyes were hard with warning. It was a look they all knew well, a look that promised pain via her gun if people didn't do exactly what she wanted. The members of the argument and viewers alike swallowed at the expression, eyes widening ever so slightly.

"Y-yes, ma'am," Ed stammered, rushing off in the direction of his tent. Nobody would see him for a few hours after he entered the tent. He had a schedule. Once he got back from battle, he changed clothes, called his brother, and took a rather long nap. It was hard to blame the kid for he wasn't lying when he claimed that his missions were tough. This war with Creta was hard on him. Havoc and Breda saluted and ran off to the mess tent for some food. Mustang watched them leave, faint traces of a smile left on his face.

"You know, you could just always have a straight conversation with him rather than masking everything with an argument," she murmured, her face impassive, though there was a tenderness to her eyes as she watched the teen's retreating back. The grin solidified some, Mustang's dark eyes shining with something similar to affection.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Lieutenant," he responded, glancing towards her. The blond copied his practically patented imperceptible grin, sighing quietly.

"Of course not, sir." Riza tracked Ed's movements until she vanished into his tent, expression softening further. "He's tired."

"In more ways than one..." Mustang let his shoulders relax from his perfect military posture, turning sharply away from his position. "Well, come on, Lieutenant. You weren't lying for once about the meeting I have to attend."

FMAFMA

Ed jerked, startled out of his dozing state, at a sudden knock on one of the structure poles of his tent. "Can I come in?" Mustang asked, his silhouette shadowing the entrance flap. Slightly confused, Ed sat up, rubbing his face to chase away any signs of fatigue.

"Do what you want, bastard," he answered, hoping he didn't look too terrible. The flap opened to admit Roy Mustang, who was clearly off duty with his coat slung over his shoulder. The man scanned his surroundings before claiming custody of a nearby chair, plopping into it gratefully. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Mustang?" And then those dark eyes were on him, flicking up and down his form to analyze his condition. Finally, he sighed, sitting back, though gaze never left the teen, lingering on a dark bruise on his temple.

"Just got out of that damned meeting. Apparently the enemy's preparing a surprise attack for us come morning." An apologetic expression danced across his face, regret lacing the edges. Ed read the hidden meaning, bolting into a standing position in anger.

"WHAT?! But tomorrow was supposed to be my resting day! I've been going non-stop for days, Mustang, and you know it! You can't just throw me back in there when I'm working on practically no sleep!" At each sentence full of acidic fury and frustration, the dark-haired man wanted nothing more than to sink further into his chair and disappear. It was wrong, dammit! But orders were orders.

"There's nothing I can do about it, Fullmetal. The orders came directly from the top." The look of betrayal on Ed's face struck directly at his heart and he sighed, looking the boy in the eyes. "It's the price you paid for being a dog of the military. It's time for us to sit down and bark for our masters." The anger slowly leeched away from Ed's golden eyes, a saddened acceptance taking its place. He sat back down, huffing in annoyance.

"Yea... Not the first time I've paid a price for doing something stupid," he remarked with a rueful grin. "So why're you really here? You could have told me my orders tomorrow morning." Mustang resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The kid was too smart for his own good sometimes.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye asked me to check up on you. She said you hadn't called your brother today." The blond's eyes deepened once more and he averted his gaze to the floor.

"I told Al yesterday that I wouldn't call him today. I told him I had a day to myself and I'd call him then. Looks like I'm going to have to go back on that promise..." Silence fell over them like a heavy blanket, each unsure of what to say. Finally, Mustang stood, clapping a hand on Ed's shoulder.

"Well, you look alright to me. I'll inform the Lieutenant and get some rest for myself. Tomorrow already sounds like a tiring day. Fullmetal." He nodded at his subordinate and excused himself, leaving the boy completely confounded at his words.

"Did he just...apologize?" he asked himself, raising an eyebrow at the flap he called a door.

FMAFMA

Roy sat at his desk, staring at the roster in front of him. He had to split up his team. He couldn't accompany Ed into battle like he'd like to, so the least he could do is send some of his most trusted men with the younger alchemist. The question was, who? Havoc and Breda worked well together as a team, but could they cover Ed when he needed it? And Falman was smart and pretty handy with a gun, but his battle skills were somewhat lacking. Feury was a genius with technology, but in a battlefield, his only use was as a telephone operator.

And Hawkeye. Roy knew for a fact that he could trust her with just about anything, including his own life. But why was it so hard to even think about letting her go with Ed?

This was a lot tougher than any of the previous battle assignment he'd had to complete. Sighing, he placed his pen down on the hardwood, replacing it with his head. He needed to relax; it was just a dream, a graphic dream, but a dream nonetheless.

_A hand reached out to him, dripping with blood. He couldn't move, frozen at the image in front of him. The sounds of battle echoed around, bouncing off the alchemy-created walls. No... NO! Small puddles were forming beneath the trembling appendage, tiny scarlet pools in the dirt. _

"_Why... Why didn't you help me...?" _

Mustang jerked upright, once again in his tent. His dark eyes were wide, something eating away at his insides. He just couldn't shake this feeling of dread that had taken residence in his stomach, filling it to the brim. It's why this decision had suddenly become so hard; to make one mistake would make the dream become a reality. He couldn't let that happen.

So if he were to put Falman and Havoc together, Havoc would be able to cover for Falman's weaknesses and-

_An eye bore into his own, the other complete shrouded in thick scarlet liquid as it slid in a continuous river down the young face. Perhaps it wasn't even there any more. "Please Colonel... Help me..." _

That grouping was a no. What about if he put Falman and Feury with Breda...? Surely with both Falman and Breda paired nothing ba-

_Golden hair was dyed red, matted with the blood that dripped idly from the back of his skull. One arm was completely missing, metal fragments sticking out from a mangled port on his shoulder. Liquid rust lined each crevice, slipping down onto his already drenched chest._

What had he been even thinking with that? Alright, Havoc, Feury, and Breda. He'd already said that Havoc and Breda were a good team, adding Feury would put a telephone-

_A mechanical leg was torn up almost beyond recognition, dangling uselessly from yet another port. What looked like one of the toes was jammed into the calf of the flesh leg, blood spilling out in surprising amounts from around the edges of the false appendage. Stark white bone stuck through the thigh, the edge pointed. A hunk of flesh was impaled on the edge, torn directly from the thigh where it used to be. It still was soaked in scarlet, slipping in individual streams down the bone. _

Also a no... Dammit, why was this so hard? Groaning, he massaged his temples to try and ease the ache that was forming as a result of this problem. His pale face was forming stress marks along his forehead, bruise-like bags hanging under his eyes. Black hair was unkempt from the amount of times his hands had combed through it in frustration. How about Falman and Feury-

_The torso was torn up, ripped from several blades tearing through the soft flesh. Burns trailed up the boy's side, blisters dripping clear pus onto the dark red ground. A pole was embedded in the boy's stomach, pining him to the ground below. Tearing along the edges of the wound showed that he'd already tried to get free. A small hole tore through the black shirt on his right breast, blood flowering out from the bullet's entrance point. _

No. No. Absolutely fucking not. That was dumb to even consider. If he put Havoc and Hawkeye together, no harm would come to the boy he was trying to protect. He knew that for certain. But he couldn't put Hawkeye's name down for the assignment, his pen halting before he could even press it into the paper. She'd been at his side since he joined the military, watching his back when he couldn't. Mustang was unsure he even knew how to watch his own back anymore, which worried him to no end. Without her by his side when he went into battle, he would feel naked, exposed. He needed her. So that left one option...

FMAFMA

"Alright!" Mustang said, watching the members of his group, with one noticeable exception, stand at attention. Ed stood off to the side; the bags beneath his eyes had only worsened since the night before. But he still exhibited an air of confidence that was only halfway forced. Roy knew he looked just as bad, his hair still slightly messy despite the efforts he had taken this morning to calm it and his face just as drawn and tired. "Havoc, Breda, and Falman. You're with Ed today." The men in question straightened further and jerked a hand to their brows, a sharp "sir!" leaving their throats. The dark-haired man nearly smirked. "Hawkeye, Fuery. You're with me."

He scanned the small group, his gaze resting on the teen for a moment, catching his raised eyebrow. "At ease," the colonel caught himself saying. "You will meet us at the entrance in exactly one hour." Another salute and they all left, with the exception of Hawkeye, who discreetly hung around to keep an eye on her superior.

"Something wrong, bastard?" Ed asked, smirking at the man. Mustang raised his own eyebrow in question.

"No, why would something be wrong?" _Blood, so much blood. How could one person produce this much?_

"You never call me Ed." At that, he stared, realizing his mistake. Shit, he must have tipped off his entire group that something was wrong.

"Well that is your name... Would you rather me refer to you as shorty?" The short joke didn't have its intended effect, the boy as impassive as before. _The familiar smell of burning flesh reached his nose, mingling with the metallic scent of blood that stained his gloves. Shit he couldn't get a spark going with them like this. He couldn't protect him. _ Mustang had to leave, before he lost his lunch in front of Ed. The kid beat him to it.

"I'm gonna go call Al before I leave. Y'know. Let him know what's going on. I'll see you in an hour." He turned, the black serpent's cross staring at him from the back of the once again flawless coat.

"Ed." The boy paused, cluing him in that he was listening. "Be careful out there." The blond snorted, smirking at the colonel.

"I think you should worry about yourself, old man."

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_DA: And that ends Chapter 1! You guys will have to tell me what you think. I'm not entirely sure about characterization, but I think I did a good enough job. And I promise that it gets a lot better from here. I hope you enjoyed! _

_May your hearts stay strong,_

_DarkAngel555_


	2. Chapter 2

_DA: Heya! I'm backkkkk! And I think I've decided on a schedule. But I'll let you know all about that in the ending Author's Note cause I know you all just wanna get to the chapter. This one's an exciting one and I hope you enjoy._

_Disclaimer: If I owned, the characters would hate me... I think they still do. Hehe_

_DA: Well... I forgot to mention last chapter, but this story uses intense language, including use of the word 'fuck'. I actually use it quite a lot. But I think it's too late to warn you about that... whoops. Anyways, this chapter has moderate gore so if you are weak of stomach, don't read. So enjoy the chapter!_

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Darkness to Dawn

Chapter 2

Ed strolled into the battle, appearing uncaring for the carnage around him. It was the same scene that he'd been seeing for the past few weeks; he was growing accustomed to it. The trio of soldiers Mustang had assigned him walked behind by a few paces, murmuring amongst themselves. He paused, analyzing the battle with sharp eyes, and sighed, placing his hands on his hips. "Some surprise attack this is... It looks as if we've been waiting here for days for this to get started," he commented smartly, scowling at the gunfire that peppered the soft ground nearby.

"Major Elric!" someone called, bringing his gaze over to a battle-weary soldier. The young man had a gun slung over his shoulder, waving furiously to catch the teen's attention. Rolling his eyes, he moved over to the soldier, carefully placing a look of exasperation on his face so no one could tell how affected he was by the battle. He would never get used to war, of that he was absolutely certain.

"What's the situation?" he asked, crossing his arms. The man looked pale, as if injured, or perhaps scared shitless. Knowing the way this war was going, probably the latter.

"Sir, there's a mechanized...thing... destroying our troops in the northwest corner of this area. We can't even get a man in there to touch it." Ed nodded sharply, turning towards the direction indicated.

"Then that's where I'm need most. Thanks, Sergeant." And with that said he sprinted off, leaving three confused soldiers in his wake. After a quick glance at one another, they followed, nearly tripping over themselves to catch up.

"HEY BOSS!" Havoc yelled at the top of his lungs, accidentally dropping his cigarette into the dirt, much to his chagrin. "WAIT FOR US!" Ed just grinned, glancing behind him at his group.

"Catch up with me there. Promise to leave some for you!" Havoc and Breda, having been with the kid before, rolled their eyes, pouring on the speed. Falman looked a little shocked, his pallor paling.

"Are you sure we should just let him go on alone?" he asked, eyebrows drawn together in worry. To that, the blond laughed.

"Nah," Havoc responded, smirking. "Believe us when we say he'll be just fine. We just need to worry that he won't leave any for us."

Ed heard them bicker but ignored them, focused on the slowly growing machine in the distance. That was his target and he had a feeling that it was bad news. However, it was only until he ran straight in the path of a rather large missile that was more than likely alchemically produced, that the alchemist understood the gravity of the situation. "Oh shit," he cursed under his breath, diving out of the way before any debris could hit him.

The creature stood nearby, its metal frame plated with flaking and rusting aluminum casing. A rather thick hand swung around, knocking several soldiers that were trying to break through to it several feet away. In its mouth, a missile launcher replaced what would have been a tongue had the thing been even close to resembling a human. The eyes glowed red, much like another person that Ed knew very _very_ well. Alchemy was buzzing all around, causing the boy to twitch. Just like he'd thought, bad news.

Blood tainted the quality of the air, polluting it with its thick metallic scent. Soldiers lay wounded every which way, creating a cacophony of terrible sounds. One whimpered next to his feet, a rather large piece of shrapnel lodged in his gut. Coppery liquid pooled around the point of entry, spilling to the already soaked ground. Another had no head and half a body, blood sluggishly draining from the remaining parts. Chunks of someone's small intestines were scattered around the area. Ed swallowed harshly against the bile that raced up his throat and looked away, focusing instead to the cause of all these problems.

"Cover me guys," he ordered at his back, knowing instinctively that his soldiers were there, and ran off again, clapping to transmute his automail blade. Bullets sprayed from behind him as he approached the enemy line, effectively cutting a safe path through the soldiers. Without even pausing to show his gratitude, he continued on through. Clapping again, he transmuted the ground beneath him to a set of stairs that led straight to the head of the mechanical beast, the dirt dipping at his feet.

Here, the feel of active alchemy was stronger, making Ed's skin crawl. An arm crashed into his created stairs, the resulting shock wave throwing the teen off balance. Only a quick transmutation saved him from certain death. Shit, that was too close. He needed to pay closer attention to the machine's movements; another slip up like that could destroy him. And there was no way in hell he was going to die before the bastard Colonel.

As he ran, golden eyes scanned the creature. It was running off alchemic power; he needed to find either the alchemist or the transmutation circle, either of which had to be nearby. Suddenly, it turned on him, the cannon in its mouth glowing with power. Eyes widening, he erected a wall in front of him as the missile crashed directly into it, a shudder running from it into his body, which he had tightly pressed to the structure. He sagged to the ground, gasping for air. His gaze remained glued to the floor as another explosion rocked the wall. He'd found the circle alright, not that it was a good thing. Smiling grimly, he deconstructed the wall, staring into the eyes of the machine. Oh, this would be fun.

Ed launched himself at the beast, grasping onto the nearest handhold, its chest plate. Great. Tightening his grip, he hauled himself up and latched onto the next hold, wincing as the metal cut into the skin of his flesh hand. Cries of ceasefire echoed up to him as he climbed, but that didn't stop a stray bullet from grazing his side. That was going to hurt like hell later, but he didn't have the time to think about that right now. He kept moving, avoiding both gunfire and the flailing arms of the creature he was climbing. Oh yea, soreness was inevitable once he got back to camp. "I'm going to fucking murder the bastard," he grumbled, occupying himself with the pleasant thoughts of how he would torture his superior at a later date.

Finally, he reached the opening of the mouth and, hauling himself into it, rubbed his now bleeding hand. Mustang would pay. Today was supposed to be his damn day off and here he was, bleeding all over the mouth of a fucking machine in search of a transmutation circle that would shut the entire damned thing down. Oh, yea, the circle. Without even a second thought, he clapped and pressed his hands to the missile launcher, watching with glee as the thing melted away. Then, in one fluid movement, he thrust his blade into the heart of the circle, twisting it around for effect. The effect was immediate, the machine shuddering to a stop. Ed could almost feel the alchemy leech from the air, relieving him to no end, but also worried him. It couldn't be this easy. It _never _was this easy.

And, of course, the mechanical beast chose that moment to shake itself to pieces now that it no longer had anything holding it together. Growling something inaudible under his breath, he quickly transmuted the available materials into a makeshift platform and gently eased it to the ground next to the rubble. As the blond stood, dusting off his clothes, he came to the sudden realization that he was in danger. "Freeze, Alchemist!" a voice yelled, the accent distinctly Cretan. He quickly glanced around, noticing the guns pointed at him. Well, fuck... It was one thing after another with these guys wasn't it? Discreetly placing his palms together, he held his hands up, a smirk tracing across his features.

"And what is it you guys want exactly?" he questioned, molding the molecules in the air. He'd learned this trick from Mustang, but never really had a chance to use it before. The man who had spoken was trembling like a leaf, skin red and flaking from being in the hot summer sun for far too long. The soldiers behind him seemed to have more nerve, a hard glint in each of their eyes, a killer's glint.

"Just come quietly Alchemist. We have you surrounded." Ed rolled his eyes and, deeming the transmutation complete, clacked the fingers of his automail hand together, creating a spark. The air around them exploded, the blond himself not quite excluded from the blast. He dove backwards, the skin on his right side boiling from the heat. Hissing, he pressed his blessedly cool left hand to the injury and surveyed the carnage around him. Most of the soldiers in front of him had scattered, making it easier for him to pick them off as he saw fit. Huh. That meant he was going to have to thank the bastard upon his return.

"Boss, you alright?" Havoc called, appearing at the boy's side. About time they showed up.

"Just fan-fucking-tastic," he responded in a low growl, straightening with a wince. Damn burn.

"We saw the blast," Breda said, walking up to his other side, scanning the area with a critical eye. "Damnnn. I gotta learn alchemy one of these days."

"Was that the Colonel's technique?" Falman asked, kneeling next to a burned corpse. Ed nodded, raising an eyebrow.

"Yea. Improvised a bit though. It's not too hard to copy his technique when you've seen it a few hundred thousand times." The man just nodded, smiling a bit, and continued his inspection of the now dead soldier. Havoc crouched down so his face was level with the alchemist's injured side, gently peeling away the hand pressed against it.

"Hard enough to learn though. It seems you burned yourself pretty good. And you're bleeding?" The blond subconsciously rubbed the injured appendage, scowling.

"How about you try and scale a huge mechanical monstrosity with just your bare hands and see you come away unscathed?" Havoc rolled his eyes and continued to investigate the extent of the burn, fingers none too gently prodding at the abused flesh. Ed distracted himself by watching Falman do checks of each body that hadn't been too badly burned. Only he caught the movement of one of the soldiers, a subtle tightening of a hand around a weapon. "Falman, look o-" The man looked up at his cry and a hand shot out, catching him in the thigh with some sort of device. He tensed in shock, convulsed for a moment, and passed straight out, eyes rolling back into his head and slumping backwards in a dead faint. "FALMAN!"

The attacker heaved himself into a sitting position with a wince, staring in awe at the weapon in his hand. "Damn," he whistled, clearly impressed. "The new weapons the Brigadier General gave us have quite a bite to them." He looked around, scanning his teammates. "Hey, you guys alright?" Much to the shock of the Amestrians watching, other members of the enemy started to stir, fingering strange devices of their own. Ed straightened from his slightly hunched over position, his still freely bleeding hand clamping over his burned side. He knew that had been too easy.

"Ed," Havoc whispered in his ear, strangely focused. "What's going on?"

"Trap," he breathed, shifting slightly onto his automail foot with a slight hiss in pain. Shit, that was right. He had a bullet graze on his other side, which was bleeding pretty heavily at this point. "We need to charge. On my count." The older man's hand rested on his gun, his gaze never leaving the men in front of them. Breda moved quietly, tensing as if ready for battle. "Three." Havoc flicked the safety off on his gun, finger curling around the trigger. "Two." Ed shifted his automail foot back, ready to pounce. "One." And they ran into the mess of people, all of which were getting up, and, for the most part, prepared for battle.

Thankful for the blade he hadn't deconstructed yet, he blocked a soldier's rifle as it swung towards his head and sliced off the nose of the gun. In one fluid movement, he bounced back and shoved one metal foot in the man's face, effectively knocking him out. Hearing a click behind him, he glanced back, golden eyes wide at the gun barrel aimed directly at his head. The blond leaned away as the man fired, the bullet whizzing by his face, burning the skin of his cheek. "Shit!" he yelped, clamping a hand over the injury.

"Ey! Careful there Sergeant! We need him alive, not dead," another called from behind him. Twirling around, he found himself surrounded, enemy soldiers pressing in on all sides. Fuck, not good. His vision was starting to blur, blood loss making his head spin. If this lasted any longer, he wouldn't be able to transmute anymore. A tall man grabbed him from behind, circling his arms around the boy's shoulders. Jerking his head back, he rammed the perpetrator in the nose, causing him to let go. Another made a go at him from the front; he was easily disposed of as he slid down to knock the man's feet from under him. Dirt crusted into his cut side, pain making him woozy. Dammit, he needed to finish this quick.

"Breda!" he vaguely recognized Havoc's voice as it called out to their partner. A gunshot rang out and Ed saw in terrifying slowness as it entered the man's thigh, near his knee. Blood spurted out from the wound, the man attached collapsing to clutch the injured flesh. In the next moment, one of the strange weapons collided with Breda's neck, causing the man to fade out just like Falman had not even ten minutes earlier. Ed staggered to his feet, trying to rush over to the man. Cretan soldiers blocked him in every way, bullets flying over his head as more creative weaponry, such as a hunk of metal from the machine, made attempts at his other limbs. The man who had grabbed him before caught him again, tackling the boy to the ground. The alchemist bucked, making attempts to force the man off of him, but he couldn't budge. His attacker had a heavy kneed lodged in his back and his hands pinned at his sides. He snarled and swore, his entire body flailing in an attempt to get free.

With a sharp bang, the hold on his arms loosened and something heavier collapsed on top of him, a hot and wet substance seeping into his hair. A hand closed in on his arm and helped him squirm out from under the enormous load. Jean Havoc's gun was smoking, his eyes hard and worried. "You alright?" he asked quietly, sapphire eyes quickly scanning over his form.

"'m fine," Ed grumbled, keeping his eyes specifically away from the body of his assaulter. In all honesty, he was weak and trembling and grime coated him from head to toe. But getting out of here was their first priority. "We need to get Falman and Breda and get the hell out of here." The statement was murmured under his breath and the older soldier had to lean in to hear it.

"No. Out of the question. We're gonna get you out of here and then I'll call a back-up team in to get Falman and Breda. I was ordered by the Colonel to protect you and honestly, I'm more scared of him than I am of you. Sorry boss." Those liquid golden eyes hardened into a dark bronze, the glare fierce. Those eyes promised trouble and pain, lots of pain. "Honestly, Ed. Your glares mean nothing when I'm facing a court martial if I disobey the almighty Colonel. I once saw him commit a man for looking at Hawkeye the wrong way." Ed's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, a deep scowl cutting across his pale face.

"I don't care what the bastard wants you to do. I can't leave a man behind. So you can leave with me or without me. I don't care in the slightest." Suddenly, the teen's eyes widened sharply and he yanked Havoc aside just as a bullet tore through the area where the man's head had been. Dropping the man the moment the danger passed, his hand clamped over the graze from earlier, fresh blood oozing through his fingers. Swift hands pulled his off the injury and a string of curses permeated the air.

"Dammit, Ed. Say something the next time I ask if you're ok." Ed rolled his eyes, keeping sharp attention to the gathering group around him.

"It's just a graze, Havoc. Leave it be. Now's not the time." Sighing in exasperation, the soldier frowned and stood, cocking his gun in preparation for battle.

"Give us the alchemist and no one else gets hurt," one of the Cretan men ordered, his brown eyes narrowed over the barrel of his shotgun. "We'll even let the other two go." With that addition, the man, a captain by the looks of it, smirked at the pair, his gaze solely on Ed. The alchemist gave his partner a sidelong glance, his eyes darkening considerably over the arrangement.

"Don't even think about it," Havoc hissed at the boy, taking aim at one of the enemy. The look Ed threw him could be considered a cocky smirk, but it was gone to fast for him to analyze it.

"Just watch and learn." Slapping his hands together, the blond slammed them into the ground, watching the ground buck and heave at his will. Several members of the group surrounding them fell to the ground, off balance, others were captured in giant stone fists. But as quick as it started, it ended, and Ed was gasping for air, his limbs trembling beneath him. "Maybe I went overboard," the smoker thought he heard the boy say faintly.

Ed willed himself to his feet, painting his smirk across his face. He was exhausted, but that didn't mean he was going to let it show. His vision flickering, he charged into the group, brandishing the blade on his right arm. He heard Havoc's gunshots somewhere nearby and soldiers fell, their blood arching into the air. His blade cut through into flesh, the sensation sending chills up his spine. A familiar shout arose from the crowd of people. "Freeze, alchemist!" For once, he did as was told, turning in the direction of the voice. The speaker emerged from the crowd, a struggling Havoc in his grasp. He had an arm tightened around the soldier's throat, a gun pressing into his scalp.

"Come quietly and I won't have to pull this trigger," he taunted, his finger curling around the piece of metal that would end the lieutenant's life. Ed frowned, paling even further at the situation. His eyes glanced around, first to Falman, sprawled out on the dirt, then to Breda, bleeding and unconscious, and lastly to Havoc, trying to spit out curses over the arm tight around his trachea. His breaths quickened; there really was no other choice.

"Will you leave the others alone as well?" he finally asked, swallowing. The Cretan smiled, the expression cruel and disgusting.

"Yes. Just turn yourself over to us." Giving one last look around, as if to try and find a final way out, Ed sighed, deconstructing his automail blade.

"Fine. Just let Havoc go." And let him go he did. The gun collided harshly with the back of the blond soldier's head, the dull thud sounding a bit louder to the victim's ears than to everyone else. He went down like a sack of potatoes, all motor control lost to him. His vision went grey and fizzled in and out like a crappy car stereo. But he was treated to the sight of three men grabbing Edward, yanking his arms behind his back as another pulled out one of those devices. It slammed down on the young alchemist's collarbone and he went limp,his mouth open in a soundless cry. The other two supported him, their hands hooked under his arms. And that's when his eyes failed him and he knew no more. The Colonel was going to kill him, skip the court martial and shish kabob him.

* * *

_DA: Well, first battle completed. You'll have to tell me what you think about my writing style for the battle, seeing as I'm always so paranoid about battle scenes... Actually, I'm paranoid about my writing style period. Heheh. And for those of you who were surprised at how dark this story is, it gets darker from here. A lot darker. _

_I'm taken aback by the response this fic has gotten so far. Seven reviews in the first four or five days that it was posted. That's a record for me and I'm eternally grateful to all of you. I won't ask for a set number of reviews before I post each chapter because personally, I think that's just mean. But it still would be nice if you reviewed. It does help quite a bit with my inspiration. _

_Did I forget anything? Oh yes, my updating schedule. Hehe. I've decided that I'm going to post on Fridays (In the USA if I have any foreign readers), between the times of 2PM and 7PM EST. I told a few of you that I was going to do this on Saturday, but I decided against it. I dance competitively and well, I have quite a few competitions on Saturday and that would mess with my updating schedule and no one wants that. If I can't update on Friday, I should know the week prior and I'll let you guys know. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Love you all!_

_May your hearts stay strong,_

_DarkAngel555_

_(If you want to follow me on tumblr, my URL is darkangelbk201)_


	3. Chapter 3

_DA: Well, I started this late... hehehehe. Let's hope I made the deadline. Right now I think I will. But it all depends on how quickly I can write. So let's just get right to it shall we?_

_Disclaimer: Don't own...And I think Ed's thankful for that._

_Warning, more gore and swearing. Basically, my fic in a nutshell. Gore and swearing. Maybe I should rename...Onto the chapter!_

* * *

Darkness to Dawn

Chapter 3

Mustang stumbled back into camp later than normal, exhaustion lines etched onto his face. Blood was spattered all over his royal blue uniform, and he stank of burnt flesh, some of it caked along the creases of his skin and clothing. His lips were sticky with evaporated lipids, vaporized by the heat of his flames. Hawkeye walked with him, her own face drawn with fatigue. Their's had been a rough battle, but at a certain point the enemy had seemed to relax as if an objective had been cleared. That put the Colonel into turmoil trying to figure out the reason. What objective?

The guard saluted as he passed and Mustang paused, his dark eyes thoughtful. "How did Fullmetal look when he returned today?" he inquired. Surely the boy was back by now. The younger soldier faltered, his eyes going wide at the unexpected question.

"Sir, um... Major Elric...hasn't reported in yet today..." the man responded, Mustang's blood turning to ice in his veins. "In fact, none of the soldiers assigned to that section have returned..." The dark-haired man sighed, pushing his crippling fear to the back of his mind. Now was not the time to panic.

"Right. Remind me. Which section was that again?" To this, the man had an immediate answer.

"Section A17."

"With all due respect, sir," Hawkeye interjected as Roy opened his mouth to speak, picking up on her superior's thought process. "It's too dangerous to launch a search party this late in the evening. It would be far more effective to do so in the morning." Flicking his gaze to his lieutenant, he noticed the harsh glare smoldering in her chestnut eyes, a contrast from her impassive expression.

"Right... You will alert me if any of my men arrive." The guard snapped into a salute as Mustang turned and walked away, a sharp scowl slashing across his suddenly pale face. As he bid Riza goodnight, the dread he'd been cultivating since late the previous night thrashed and turned his stomach, nausea creeping up his throat.

FMAFMA

Roy tossed and turned violently on his cot, blankets tangling around his limbs. Sweat beaded against his brow, dripping down his face and soaking the strands of black hair that happened to brush against the damp skin. Tears gathered in his eyelashes, expressions of alternating pain and panic crossing across his features.

_The battlefield was drenched in thick blood, the air stained with a red haze. Mustang, a smudged white cloak draped over his pristine Amestrian uniform, stood in a hole in the fighting. Clean gloves ensnared his hands, the red stitching betraying the power they held. _

_Dark eyes scanned the immediate area, fingers poised in a presnap. Scorch marks littered the ground at his feet, most smoldering with fading flames. He nearly smiled at the rest of the land, uneven with alchemically created structures. Fullmetal was doing a good job, creating mass destruction as ordered. If he listened carefully, the boy's trademark battle cries could be heard, grunting with effort and swearing his head off. Perhaps he should find the younger alchemist and offer some assistance, for surely, the repeated use of such powerful alchemy was wearing him down. _

_And so, he sprinted off, following the sound of Ed's enraged cries. In the corner of his eyes, a gun flashed and without thought, he snapped, an explosion rocking the ground. Soldiers stumbled at the resulting shockwave, bullets ripping through their momentarily vulnerable bodies. And that's when he heard the scream, filled with utmost agony and fear. Roy's eyes widened, heart jumping into his throat. That was Ed, no doubt about it. He ran, ignoring his body's aching protests and the enemy footmen that attempted to put a stop to his forward march._

_Something clacked nearby, sounding suspiciously like a gun cocking. He turned and snapped, the air heating up before he even realized what he was seeing. _

_An eye bore into his own, the other completely shrouded in thick scarlet liquid as it gushed in a continuous river down the young, terrified face. Perhaps the hidden eye wasn't even there anymore. "Please Colonel... Help me..." The whispered words reached his ears as the alchemy-produced bomb hit the area. Mustang couldn't feel his heart throbbing in his chest as dust and smoke rose, billowing high into the sky. His lungs refused to work until it began to clear and revealed a wall, albeit crumbling, that had taken the brunt of his attack. _

"_Ed!" he yelled, running around to help the teen and halted once rounding the corner. A hand reached out to him, dripping with blood. He couldn't move, frozen at the image in front of him. The sounds of battle echoed around, bouncing off the hastily erected wall. No... No! Small puddles were forming beneath the trembling appendage, tiny scarlet pools in the dirt. _

"_Why...Why didn't you help me...?" The hoarse words were mumbled, the boy's mouth barely opening. _

"_Fullmetal," he whispered through numb lips, swallowing. The beginnings of panic were starting to well within him, his heart racing. The color leeched from his face, his hands shaking. But, with the practiced ease of a war veteran, he shoved his panic aside and rushed forward, falling to his knees next to the injured alchemist. He scooped his hands around Ed's shoulders and lifted his head into his lap. "Ed, Edward! Can you hear me?" His voice was tight and urgent, traces of fear fluttering into his words. The familiar odor of burnt flesh reached his nose, mingling with the metallic scent of blood that had now soaked through his gloves and pants. He stared at the ruined gloves with wide eyes, his panic returning in a burst with the popping of gunfire nearby. Shit, he couldn't get a spark going with them like this. He couldn't protect him._

_Once again fighting his emotions back, Mustang raked his gaze over the small, still form sprawled out on his lap. Golden hair was dyed red, matted with the blood that trickled idly from the back of Ed's skull. One arm was completely missing, metal fragments sticking out from a mangled automail port on his shoulder. Liquid rust lined each crevice, rolling down onto his already drenched chest. The other arm was mostly unharmed, curled around his abdomen protectively. The torso itself was torn up, ripped from several blades tearing through the soft, vulnerable flesh. Burns trailed up the boy's side, already formed blisters dripping clear pus onto the dark red ground. The wall, for all its effectiveness, must not have been as protective as Roy had initially thought. A pole was embedded in the blond's stomach, pining him to the earth below. Tearing along the edges of the wound showed that he'd already tried to get free. The Colonel had begun taking deep breaths, staving off his nausea at the sight. A small hole bit through the black shirt on Ed's right breast, blood flowering out from the bullet's entrance point. _

_It was with a heavy heart that he finished his check. There was so much blood. How could one person produce this much? And those burns... That was his fault. Most of these injuries were probably his fault. Guilt, sickening guilt, churned his already turning stomach. If only he'd fucking looked before he fired, then this wouldn't have happened. Ed whimpered quietly, dragging him from his daze, and Mustang finished his inspection. _

_A mechanical leg was practically blown apart, dangling uselessly from thin wires still attached to yet another port. What looked like one of the toes was jammed into the calf of the flesh leg, blood spilling out in surprising amounts around the edges of the false appendage. Stark white bone stuck through the thigh, the edge pointed. A hunk of flesh was impaled on the tip, torn directly from the border of the surrounding wound. It was still stained in scarlet, slipping in individual streams down the bone. _

_Mustang blinked back tears that he hadn't realize had formed, calculating which wound needed most attention. Light breaths cracked unhealthily near his ear as he leaned over and pressed down on the chest injury, almost reveling at the pained moan. Noise meant life. "C'mon Ed," he whispered urgently, fear leeching further into his voice. "You're gonna pull through this. It's going to be ok." His hands shook as his words did, adrenaline and fear snaking through his veins. _

_A hand encircled his wrist, its grip weak. "Colonel...I-it's ok..." Ed rasped. Roy glanced up at the boy's face, locking eyes with that sole glimmering golden orb. A tear dribbled down his face, falling onto the hand overlapping his own. He knew... He knew he wasn't going to make it. A faint smile ghosted over the blond's lips. "D-don't...blame yourself..." He coughed, coppery blood painting his lips. Roy was nauseated at the sight. _

"_Why don't you blame me?" he asked, voice quiet and saturated with self-loathing. "This is all my fault..." Ed's hand tightened around his own._

"_Because you never blamed me..." The form took a shuddering, crackling breath and went limp on his lap, once golden eyes losing their luster and fading to a dull copper. _

"_No!" Mustang cried, grasping onto that bloodstained hand, now lifeless in his own. "Ed, don't do this!" He shook the body, almost desperate to get some sign of life. "ED!" _

Mustang shot upright, a scream building in his throat. Instead he let his face fall into his hands, blessedly clean hands, a horrified sob lurching from his mouth. No... He'd never let that dream become a reality, not unless he died first.

No blood was smeared over his palms; he'd already checked. He needed to calm down. It was just a damn dream. He heard, but didn't react to, the soft footsteps thumping in the dirt outside his door. "Sir!" Hawkeye called from behind the door, her voice only slightly strained with worry. Roy was sitting up in bed, face in his hands, cold sweat dripping between his lax fingers. The sudden adrenaline rush caused him to tremble involuntarily. He looked up at her words, swallowing harshly to keep his simple dinner in his body. "Permission to enter?" Clearing his throat experimentally, he winced at the burning sensation. He must have torn his throat raw while sleeping.

"Permission granted, Lieutenant," he said, grimacing at the rough, grating sound of his voice. The door opened, revealing a bedraggled Riza, her uniform rumpled as if it had been hastily thrown on. Her blond hair was clipped back as normal, but not with its usual care. "What is it Riza?"

"They've returned." He didn't need any more clarification than that, hauling himself out of bed. Unlike her, he didn't even bother with his uniform, instead breezing past the blond and directly out into the open air. The sun was barely peaking over the horizon, sending most objects and people into sharp relief, their shadows extending far beyond themselves. Only a few soldiers were up and around, moving along the border of the Amestrian army camp. The sky was an interesting dark pink as it melded with the promising dark blue of midday. But none of these details distracted the Colonel from his destination. "They were all taken to the infirmary, sir." That caused him to pause, eyes widening.

"All of them?" No way that could happen, no way in hell. Havoc and Ed might be accident prone, but Breda and Falman usually avoided injury like the plague. If they were all injured… He shuddered at the thought. She just nodded, her face recovering some of its composure from the desperation and fear that had coated it earlier. He could tell though that she was just as worried about the implications as he was, though it wasn't immediately obvious in her countenance. Her hands trembled lightly as she walked, her back ramrod straight as though forced.

The door to the infirmary tent was an actual door, something that unique about its structure. Roy didn't bother knocking as he entered, pushing open the door with more force than was probably necessary. Patients jumped at the thud, startled awake out of their slumber. The three beds near the back of the tent were occupied by familiar soldiers, each with a nurse or doctor by their sides. Only two were awake, the other passed out as a doctor treated a bleeding wound on the man's thigh. The blond man had a white bandage wrapped around his forehead; the other just seemed dazed. A fourth man that should have been in this group was missing.

Roy walked up to the bed with the most awake patient, his pale face a huge contrast with the burning dark eyes. The man looked up, looking terrified at the soldier now looming over him. "Havoc," Mustang greeted, voice low and menacing. "Where's Fullmetal?" The blond's eyes widened, and it was only then that he noticed that his subordinate's pupils were dilated to an unhealthy level.

"Hello, Colonel..." Havoc slurred, smiling sheepishly. "Please don't barbecue me..." Mustang rubbed his fingers together, wishing for the rough texture of his gloves eating away at his skin. His dark eyes hardened, glaring harshly at the injured party.

"If you don't give me your report right now, Havoc, you will find out how it feels to have your skin burn. I'm not going to ask you again. Where's Fullmetal?" The words were spoken softly, but the sincerity could not be mistaken as something else. Havoc swallowed, paling further.

"He...uh...got taken by Cretan soldiers..." Mustang, who was in midsnap in threat, froze, lungs locking where they were. Ed... In the hands of the enemy... _The form took a shuddering, crackling breath and went limp on the ground, eyes loosing their luster and fading to a dull copper. "No!" he cried, grasping onto that bloodstained hand, now lifeless in the sand. "Ed! Don't do this!"_ A hand touched his shoulder, drawing a startled jump from his form.

"Colonel, are you alright?" Riza asked. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself, willing the abject terror from his face. When he knew that control was in his reach, he nodded.

"I'm fine, lieutenant," he responded, voice quavering slightly. Fuck. He should have known something was gonna happen. He had known! That fucking dream, it told him everything. But did he listen? Of course not. Glancing quickly at his lieutenant, heavy guilt surged through him. "Havoc, tell me exactly what happened during the battle. Do not leave out a single detail."

Mustang was scowling as Havoc finished, looking like he couldn't decide whether he was furious or worried. "You were the only one conscious for the entire thing?" he asked slowly, breathing deeply. Havoc swallowed, sensing the budding fury in his superior.

"Yes, sir. Even Ed lost awareness before I did," he responded, bringing a hand up to rub at the stiff bandage on the back of his head.

"Would you be able to tell us which direction they went if you returned to the area?" At his, the blond let out a relieved sigh. He could no longer feel his demise approaching and, with a quick check of Mustang's fingers, he noticed that they weren't tense and poised to snap.

"Yes, sir. No problem." The Colonel nodded, his dark eyes still stormy with turmoil. The remnants of some vision flickered in his gaze.

"Alright then 2nd Lieutenant, we will depart immediately-"

"Sir, you're not in uniform," Hawkeye shot in helpfully, her hands secured behind her back.

"-We will depart in a half-hour," he amended, after a quick glance down at his thin sleep wear. "Be ready." Havoc saluted, moving to get up. The doctor, who had been silent until now, forced him down and turned to face Mustang, frowning at the man in a way that most men couldn't do when faced with this specific Colonel. Suddenly, the urge to snap his fingers once again overcame the Flame Alchemist.

"With all due respect, sir," the doctor said, the trembling voice the only sign of his fear. "This man has a moderate to severe concussion. I recommend he stay here for observation." Mustang's thumb and middle finger pressed together, he sighed in annoyance, returning the glare full force.

"Your recommendation has been noted and will be denied. This is a matter of utmost importance so stand down, doctor." His tone of voice threatened the destruction of the medical man's career. The usually timid man looked as if he was seriously considering standing his ground against the higher ranking officer, but it took him only moments to back down and murmur a weary "yes, sir." Mustang nodded haughtily, his face still sporting that scowl.

FMAFMA

Roy squinted against the bright sunlight, a gloved hand coming up to shade his eyes. "Is this the place, Havoc?" he yelled to his subordinate, glancing back towards the man. At the 2nd lieutenant's appearance, he nearly winced in sympathy. Havoc's pallor was grey with pain and nausea, sweat dripping down his brow. Staggering as if drunk, he dizzily scanned the area. The concussion and the bright light of day didn't mix.

The blond crouched down, fingering a scorch mark etched onto the dirt. "Oh yea," Havoc said, grinning up at Mustang in a way that made the Colonel nervous. "This is the place." Hawkeye knelt down next to the soldier, examining the blackened dirt. Her chestnut eyes appeared troubled, her eyebrows scrunched together.

"Isn't this…flame alchemy?" she questioned in a whisper, capturing Roy's attention instantly. He completed his own investigation of the marks, removing a glove to run his bared fingers along the ground, feeling the fine texture caused by the heat of the flames. Shit, she was right.

"Why did you find it unnecessary to inform us of an enemy alchemist, Havoc?" he reprimanded, narrowing his eyes at the injured man. The subordinate's smile only widened, cheeks reddening from the laugh he was desperately holding back.

"Enemy Alchemist? God no, this was Ed. Burned himself pretty good doing it." Mustang's eyebrow twitched at the news, his expression evening out as irritation burst through him in a frightening amount. When he got his hands on that runt, he was going to strangle him. How dare he copy his trademark move! It had taken him years to perfect the alchemy and Ed just used it after watching him a few times. The kid was unbelievable. Served him right to get burned. Somewhere deep down, though, some pride burned within him.

But that disappeared quickly, worry replacing it. There was still a job to be done. "Enough Havoc, let's keep looking." Hauling himself up, Havoc looked around, expression grave. Wordlessly he continued on, hesitating on a few spots, each marked with bloodstains. Mustang and Hawkeye followed closely, their own eyes flicking around for any surprises that might wait them. The man stopped, staring at a slight indent in the ground, in the shape of a human body.

"Here's where I was," he murmured, circling the spot. Then he pointed to a small path that had been cleared in the debris of the machine. "And that's where Ed went."

"Are you sure?" Mustang asked, walking up next to his subordinate. Havoc nodded, green eyes serious.

"Positive." That was enough for the alchemist. He moved forward, leading the way through the debris. Splattered drops of blood periodically appeared throughout the trail and Roy knew exactly where they had come from. _Scarlet puddles pooled beneath the still form, draining color away from those blank eyes. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he reached out with violently shaking hands to lower the boy's eyelids. _Snapping back to reality, he shook himself, forcing himself to focus. This was all his fault, wasn't it? And so, he was going to fix it.

Unconsciously, he moved faster, eyes watching the trail of blood that marked the path. He could almost imagine Ed, haphazardly slung over some soldier's shoulder, swaying limply as his captor moved, scarlet dripping from the fingers of his flesh hand. So caught up in that image, he tripped, nearly falling flat on his face. "Wha...?" he mumbled, glancing around. The ground was uneven, heaving and rolling as if it were as fluid as an ocean. Gunpowder speckled the dirt, bullets lodged in the stone of an out of place wall.

"It seems Ed woke up..." Havoc commented dryly, him and Riza coming to a stop behind the Flame Alchemist. Roy nodded, dark eyes already completing another, more thorough scan of the area. Behind a wall, the barest flash of a familiar red peeked out, billowing in the gentle breeze that brushed over the area. Heart freezing in his chest, he sprinted towards it, another picture flashing through his head; one of bloodstained appendages and strained breathing.

To his relief, it was just fabric, though it didn't come as much of a reassurance. Coppery liquid gathered around where the coat lay, soaking into the cloth. More was smeared against the rock, drying streaks flaking from the surface. Silver glinted in the sunlight, shining directly into Roy's eyes. A pocket watch, marked with the State Alchemist symbol, lay beaten next to the bloody mess. It was cracked open and stained as well, no longer shimmering with purity. The Colonel picked it up, denying the tremble to his hands, and it fell open in his grasp, revealing the words of guilt engraved on the inside surface. _Don't Forget .11_. This was Fullmetal's alright.

"Sir?" Riza asked, walking up to him. Her face was slightly blanched, chestnut eyes as calculating as ever. He snapped the watch shut, wincing internally at the creaking snap as it locked. Resisting the urge to check his own watch, he stood, turning to face his lieutenant.

"The trail ends here, doesn't it?" he asked, words soft. She nodded, lips twitching down into a barely perceptible scowl.

"Yes, sir. I checked the area personally. The markings that lead us here did not spread past this area. I'm sorry, sir." Mustang swallowed, unable to speak. Fury burned in his dark eyes, but at what or who, he was uncertain. It wasn't at Hawkeye, and it certainly wasn't at Ed (well maybe a little seeing as the runt did steal his technique. He _would _be getting back at him later for that.). And, of course, a little of it was reserved for they boy's kidnappers. Sighing, he faced the direction that would lead them back to base.

"Let's go." Havoc's face was pale as he saluted, be it from the concussion or the shock. Hawkeye said nothing, her hand resting almost lovingly on her gun. Guilt surged through him as he looked at her, and that's when he figured out who he was mad at. Himself. Completely silent, he led them out, fingers curled tightly around the trinket that remained in his grasp. Behind him, the jacket continued to flutter in the wind, a flag flapping a final goodbye.

* * *

_DA: Well, I didn't quite make the deadline but at least it's still Friday (and it's only a half hour.)! XD hehehehe Anyways, I am complete amazed still by the response this fic has gotten. I'm so grateful to every single one of you who have reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. I hope you continue to enjoy the story as it unfolds. _

_To answer a reviewer's(the name escapes me right now and I apologize. I'm not currently on my reviews page. I don't mean to offend.) question, I don't have my battles based on anything. They just kinda come to me and I write it as it appears in my head. Cool huh? _

_Anyway, as always, tell me what you think! See you all next Friday!_

_May your hearts stay strong,  
_

_DarkAngel555_


	4. Chapter 4

_DA: Welcome back everyone! It's Friday so you know what that means! Another new chapter! If you're new to the story, well I hope you've enjoyed so far and I hope you will continue to enjoy as I continue on. This chapter has be worried. You're all either going to love me, or you're all gonna hate me. But that, of course, depends on your personality type. _

_Disclaimer: I only own a winry cosplay and a few of the manga books, not the copyright of the series itself. _

_DA: The usual gore and intense language warnings apply. Though compared to that dream, I think this chapter is pretty tame. Haha. Anyways, Enjoy!_

* * *

Darkness to Dawn

Chapter 4

Ed arose to awareness slowly, pain the first thing his mind registered. A low groan escaped his throat, rising from deep within his chest. All in all, not an unfamiliar situation. Yet. Voices reached his ears, muffled as if spoken through water. It took a few minutes to fix that problem, the muted sounds soon clarifying into words. "-he's waking up, sir," someone said, shuffling around the room. Footsteps echoed, sharp and clacking as they approached him. Something warm closed around his chin, yanking it upright. With a moan, he cracked open his eyes, a blurry form appearing in front of him.

"So I see," another man said, voice smooth and deep. He blinked, trying to clear the never-ending blur over his entire field of vision. "He still looks a little dazed. Perhaps we should give him a few minutes to collect himself." The hand left his face, letting it drop back onto his chest. Pain burned up his neck, stiff from staying in the same position for too long. The room was clarifying, though slightly, the singularly colored floor diverting to detailed tiles, some chipped, and others stained with something he'd rather not think about.

His head felt thick and stuffy, throbbing on beat with his heart like it always did after he overused his alchemy. His arms were wrapped behind him, held together by a cold chain that bit into his flesh wrist. His legs were similarly tied. A wooden chair held him upright, supporting his weight when he wouldn't. But shit, what had happened? Last thing he remembered was smarting off to Mustang before he left for battle. He shifted, pain flaring up his side. Oh... Of course. He'd given himself to the enemy. Fucking brilliant Ed... Scowling despite his tight face, he lifted his head up and looked around, quickly counting the number of men and their ranks. Two grimy sergeants, a lieutenant, and a Brigadier General. Added with the fact that he couldn't move, his situation ranked a measly "oh shit, I'm screwed".

"I see you've finally pulled yourself together young man," the Brigadier General said, identifying himself as the man who had touched Ed earlier. The alchemist's golden eyes turned on him with a steely glare, eyebrows pinched together.

"You look like you're in charge. Where am I?" Ed asked, trying his hardest to put as much authority into the question as he could. It worked if the vein already starting to pulse in the older man's head was anything to go by. Interesting. It always took a few snide comments for Mustang to start showing outward signs of annoyance like that. Maybe the Colonel was right. He had a gift. But now was the wrong time to think about that.

"Already full of questions I see." Even the man's voice was touched with the beginnings of anger. "As am I, young man. Maybe we can help each other out. You answer my questions and I'll gladly answer one of yours. An 'equivalent exchange' of sorts. Don't you alchemists value that phrase?" If it was at all possible, Ed's eyes narrowed to the point where his irises were barely visible, not at all liking the inflection of the man's voice. The Brigadier General smiled, carefully gauging the expression on the blond's face with beady brown eyes. "I'll start by answering your question. You're in a prison compound in Creta. How long is up to you. Now will you do me the dubious pleasure of telling me your name, young man."

"Like you don't already know it. I'm sure you've been through my things already." The older man backed off, eyes twitching at the obvious refusal to answer. Straightening, he clasped his hands behind his back, keeping the frozen, fake smile firmly stationed on his face. He knew that this particular boy was going to be trouble. Of course a little wheedling was necessary to get what he wished.

"I'm not quite sure you understand the situation you're in right now, young man. I'm going to ask you one more time before things escalate." He paused for effect, turning to face the wall. "So what is your name? Or would you prefer me call you puny alchemist for the remainder of your stay here?" Ed's teeth clenched at the height reference, blood pressure rising in his anger. But he fought down his rant, forcing his head to clear. Glaring at the Brigadier General, he formulated a witty comeback.

"Hmm. I don't know. Why don't you tell me? You already know I'm an alchemist from your words,_ General_. And I look pretty young don't I? And look at this-" He wiggled his mechanical arm for emphasis, already smirking at the shades of red entering the older man's face. "Automail. So tell me, who am I?" His head jerked to the side, his cheek already burning a bright red. The Cretan General's hand was raised, already poised for another hit. Even after being slapped, Ed couldn't keep the cocky smirk from his lips, laughter bubbling in his throat from his own words.

"It's not smart to mouth off to me, Edward Elric. But you will learn that in time. Won't you?" The man's lips pulled apart in a sickening grin, the anger flecking the edges of the expression.

"If I had a dime for every time someone told me that..." The back of the hand struck the other side of the boy's face, a thick ring scraping skin from the cheek. Blood instantly welled to the spot, overflowing and sliding gracefully down his face.

"One day you'll learn when to hold your tongue when you're talking to your elders." Ed looked up, his expression sarcastic and confident. His eyes were flashing with defiance.

"Look, General Shithead. I've had my commanding officer nagging about that to me for years. If you can't tell, the lesson hasn't quite sunk in yet, but you're welcome to try. Can't guarantee success though." Though his hand was poised to strike again, the Brigadier General thought better of slapping the alchemist again, turning around and sighing in exasperation.

"Alright. Let's try something else. Your Fuhrer. What is he planning for Creta? Where is he right now?" Ed shrugged as best he could when both arms were secured to the chair he was seated in, carefully crafting his features to emit ignorance.

"How should I know? I'm just hired help." The greying man spun back around to face his prisoner, his eyes narrowed now in visible fury. This guy seemed to snap quicker than Mustang too. Storming up to him, the Brigadier General grabbed the collar of his black jacket, teeth clenched.

"Tell me what you know about your Fuhrer Elric or this will be the last conversation you ever share with anyone!" Ed remained calm, raising a skeptical eyebrow at the man.

"Really? You captured an alchemist just to get information about Fuhrer Bradley? Did it even cross your minds that any halfwit soldier from the Amestrian Army might know this information? Kind of a waste of resources to go after a state alchemist." He smiled at his captor, the glittering defiance in his eyes a sight to behold. The grin soon faded, replaced by a grimace, as a fist buried itself in his gut, a choked groan rolling from his mouth. Pain arched up from his stomach, his sides also complaining at the punishment.

The Brigadier General reared back and struck again, the blow hitting the lower section of his ribcage. The chair fell backwards, his chained hands striking the floor harshly, but softened the impact for his head as that also jarred against the hard tile. Ed coughed, harsh and grating against his throat. Two soldiers, the sergeants, placed him upright once more, the boy dazed at the sudden change of pace. "I warned you boy. But you didn't listen. But that's alright. I can see that we're going to get nothing from you information wise." The blond's eyes widened, still wheezing slightly from the punches. "So, I'm going to change tactics here." The Brigadier General strode up to Ed's chair once again, that wicked smile again in place. "I'm in need of a skilled alchemist. Perhaps you'd like to fill that position. What do you say?"

Ed spat, the liquid slightly tinted with blood, at the man, appearing disgusted at even the thought. "Fuck you." The Cretan's expression remained unchanged, one hand signaling someone behind him.

"I see then. Have you met a Cretan engineer before, Edward?" A man materialized from behind the chair, a metal toolbox clutched in a gloved hand. "They're very skilled at what they do. In fact, one might say they're even more skilled than an Amestrian engineer, but I wouldn't know that; I've never met an Amestrain engineer. But it seems you have. You'll have to tell me what you think." The Brigadier General nodded at the greasy man, fear creeping up Ed's spine for the first time since he had awoken.

The engineer pulled a screwdriver out from his kit and pushed up the black leather covering the automail leg. The blond tried to jerk it away, but his restraints made it impossible to move. The tool quickly removed the faceplate on his shin, revealing the colorful wiring below. The man thumbed through several of the wires before pinching one, being yellow in color, between his fingers. Pulling a strange device from the metal box, it was swiftly attached to the wire, beeping quietly as it was activated. The mechanic went through his entire leg like this, picking and choosing wires to clamp the tiny machines too. It tickled to have the interior of his automail played with like this. The arm received the same treatment, though this one was a bit more painful for it had been in worse condition than his leg. He winced as the internal wiring was plucked and pushed aside, sharp jolts of mild pain shooting up his arm. Ed kept his teeth clenched and remained silent, unwilling to let the Brigadier General know about his pain, though the smug expression on the soldier's face told him that he already knew. Dammit.

The mechanic backed off, leaving the face plates off the prosthetics. "What the hell did you just do to me?" Ed snarled, trying to move his fake limbs to shake the devices out of them. The Brigadier General just smiled, full of menace.

"You'll see, Edward. I'm going to offer the position again. Let's hope for your sake you changed your mind. So, will you join us?" The alchemist just scowled at the older man, golden eyes incredulous. The grin widened, pulling a small remote from within his pocket. "We'll see about that." His finger smashed down on the button and, at first, nothing happened. Then pain, starting off lightly, started creeping up Ed's artificial limbs. The sensation only increased, surging to up them as he threw his head back with muffled moans. Well, at least he knew what the devices were for. His thoughts swam underneath the agony, each pulse scattering any coherency that gathered in his brain. It ended quickly, the boy gasping for oxygen that had been missed in the pain. Tangy blood gathered around his tongue, the tip throbbing in protest.

"So, Edward? Will you join us?" Still gasping for each breath, he leveled his gaze back at the bastard General.

"Go t' h'll," he mumbled around the mouthful of blood, feeling it drip down his chin. His eyes widened with mute horror as the man's thick thumb pressed down on the button once more, the pain instantaneous. Only when darkness began closing on his vision did it end this time and when he came back into himself, the world had gone blurry.

"Why don't you make it easy on yourself, boy, and just say yes?"

"Cause I have people to protect asshole. And no pompous Brigadier General who thinks a little pain is gonna bend a misbehaving prisoner to his will is going to change my mind." Despite the blood dribbling absently over his lips and the light pants accenting his words, the statement was effective, leaden with conviction. The man grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his dazed eyes to the beady brown of his captor's.

"You have no idea how bad this is going to get. I will break your will, Fullmetal Alchemist, no matter how long it takes." He released the boy and stepped back, heading towards the door. "I'm done for today. You are free to do what you wish with him." The sergeants grinned suddenly, making their way towards the weakened form chained to the chair. The lieutenant thought about joining for a moment, but left with his commanding officer, leaving the other two in the room alone with only the prisoner to keep them company. Ed swallowed, almost wincing at the thick blood that ran down his throat, and prepared for pain.

FMAFMA

"Brigadier General, what's the prognosis?"

"This one's going to be tough to crack, but I'll get it done. Before the deadline."

"Don't forget about that deadline, Hubert. It is of utmost importance that we get it working before that date."

"Please don't call me that. Brigadier General is just fine. And it will be done."

"I am not so sure, _Brigadier General_. We might have to resort to plan B the way things are looking right now."

"You were watching?"

"Of course I was watching. What do you take me for, some incompetent fool?"

"What are my next orders?"

"Move him to our base in Central. It'll be easier to complete it there when our target is nearby."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

_DA: You guys hate me now, don't you...? Hehe. So many of you were begging for Ed to be okay. Heh. Looks like rescue might take a little while. And for those bloodthirsty few, the torture only gets worse from here. So stay tuned. XD_

_Sorry this chapter was so short. I hope you enjoyed anyway! As always, tell me what you think and I hope to see you all next week!_

_May your hearts stay strong,_

_DarkAngel555_


	5. Chapter 5

_DA: Well last chapter got some amazing reception. I didn't exactly expect that. I'm glad you all enjoyed though. We're taking a break from Ed again to focus back on Mustang. I'll be switching point of view quite a lot, so start expecting that. :)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to FMA. As I may have mentioned and you've probably noticed, that's probably a good thing. _

_DA: Without any further ado, enjoy chapter 5!_

* * *

Darkness to Dawn

Chapter 5

Mustang decided that he really hated the feel of this white jacket slung across his shoulders. It was heavy and thick, causing him to overheat way too easily. His hatred had nothing to do with the dream that still haunted him day and night. Nope, not at all. Sighing, he ran a hand over his face, feeling the scratchy texture of his glove brushing against the sensitive skin. Heavy bags hung under his eyes, brought on by the press of another watch that weighed him down. His team hung at his back, each as exhausted as the other. They'd all been working nonstop to try and find their missing member, but with no clues to work with, the mission was damn near impossible.

And yet, here they were, invading the Cretan camp in an attempt to weed out the remainder of the retreating army. Funny how the enemy army decided to turn tail and run after spending months fighting off the Amestrian army the moment one alchemist vanishes from the ranks. Already a few of the remaining soldiers had been dealt with, it was just a matter of time before the rest of them fell into their hands as well. The death toll was rising, each Cretan soldier found dealt with swiftly and efficiently.

The sounds of battle hung in the distance, the sharp scent of gunpowder wafting in Mustang's direction. Without a word, he waved in the direction of the nearby fight and changed direction, trusting his men to follow him. It seemed that, despite the retreat, the soldiers left behind still had some fight left in them and weren't going to go down without a fight. The black-haired man was met with the sight of bodies upon turning onto the battlefield, blood spattering the once clean ground. Gunfire speckled the dirt, small holes littering at his feet. With the same dull, uninterested gaze he'd been giving to anyone who spoke with him, he took no hesitation in snapping his fingers, the area lighting instantly with the bright glow of his flames.

All action froze upon this display of power, the Cretans scattering like the bugs they were. Several were flung by the blast, crashing to the ground in painful heaps. The Colonel signaled his group to locate the runaways and they ran off, but not before sending a concerned glance toward him. Only Hawkeye and Havoc fully understood what was running through his mind, whose cry he was straining to hear while out here in the field. Hawkeye remained at his back, blatantly ignoring his orders to search and destroy.

Roy shrugged, sighing slightly, and kept walking, his own eyes watching for movement among the burned bodies. Riza's gun cocked by his ear, the sound comforting amongst the madness of battle and the mess of concern muddling his own thoughts. He wasn't sure what he'd do without her. Probably die in a pool of his own blood. A low moan interrupted his thoughts, snapping his attention back to his surroundings. Riza was no longer in sight, having found her own target, but he barely noticed in his haste to locate the guttural noise.

A man, dressed in typical Cretan attire, lay struggling for breath against a pile of sandbags. Mustang's hand instantly came up, fingers poised to snap. The soldier, a quick inspection of his uniform told him to be a Captain, had shrapnel lodged in his chest and bore a rather deep cut on his thigh, splitting the skin and muscle to the bone. His dark brown eyes widened upon seeing Mustang, the strangled breaths quickening. The crackling of the man's breathing unsettled the Colonel to no end, another's form flashing through his mind. "P-please," the captain rasped, his voice hoarse and heavy with pain. "D-don't k-kill me. I h-have a w-wife and k-kids waiting for me at h-home."

"I'm sorry Cretan," Mustang said, his tone as far from apologetic as possible. "But orders are orders." He averted his eyes from the mutilated form, scowling harshly at nothing in particular.

"P-please. H-have a heart Amestrian. I-I'll do a-anything. Just d-don't kill me." The gloved fingers tensed, sparks flying from the junction between his fingers.

"Begging will get you nowhere. I'd advise you pray to the god of your choice now."

"N-no! I-I'll tell you anything. You're a state a-alchemist right? I-I can tell you w-what happened to t-that other alchemist. The b-blond one." Mustang froze where he was, fingers going lax from their tight position. Blond alchemist? There was only one person who fit that description. Well, aside from Armstrong, but no one really classified him by his hair color. The Cretan smiled, the expression flimsy and weak. "T-that's right. I k-know what's happened to him. A-and I'll tell you e-everything I know if you let me l-live and g-get me the medical attention I need."

"Speak. You have exactly one minute to tell me everything you know about him. Starting now." The man's already bloodless face seemed to pale even further and he coughed, coppery blood spewing from his lips. "55 seconds."

"Ok, ok! This b-blond alchemist comes o-onto our base a f-few days ago, couldn't have b-been more than 13 or 14. T-the higher ups i-instantly throw him into the makeshift p-prison and d-don't allow anyone b-but a certain few to t-talk to him. T-the kid was s-stubborn through a-all the interrogations. H-he didn't say a t-thing about anything. S-sometimes though, w-we could h-hear him s-screaming throughout the compound." Roy's scowl deepened and he lifted his fingers to prove that he was prepared to kill if necessary. Ed was stubborn; he didn't need some desperate soldier telling him that. The remainder of the reveal worried him slightly though. He'd never heard Ed scream before...

"Where is he?" The man cowered back from his fingers, his wide brown eyes absolutely terrified. "I'm warning you Captain. If you don't tell me, the deal is off."

"I-I overheard one of the Brigadier Generals talking. T-they're transporting him to C-Central." Roy stopped breathing for a moment, astonished at the news. But the anger returned quickly, rubbing his fingers together threateningly.

"Where in Central?" How his words sounded so calm was beyond him. His thoughts were barely filtering intelligently through the haze of panicked emotions. The soldier's eyes tightened suddenly, narrowing at Roy.

"I'm not going to tell you. G-get me to a d-doctor and m-maybe I-I'll feel like sharing more." Roy's scowl deepened, his own eyes narrowing dangerously. The smoke rolling off his gloves brushed against his face, darkening it with soot.

"Tell me _everything_ you know or no deal. After all, making a deal with the enemy could get me in trouble. I want to make this worth my while. Where is Ed?" Only now did his voice gain some gravelly hint of anger boiling beneath the surface, enough to come off as threatening. The man's mouth remained stubbornly silent, open only to let his tortured gasps out. "Last chance." Nothing. The silence was only broken by the popping sparks of his rubbing fingers and the haggard breathing of the injured man. The fury on Mustang's face twitched between his eyebrows, his teeth gritting tighter and tighter the longer the silence bore on. The lack of emotions prior to this moment was absent, a blinding rage taking its place.

_Snap_. A controlled explosion rocked the area, the body of the Cretan at its center. Roy stood in front of the flames, arm outstretched after the snap that had caused the detonation. His face held no regret, no pity for the man he'd just burned to a crisp in the heat of his flames. Instead it was carefully expressionless, watching as the fire slowly died, its fuel gone. The scent of a burnt corpse brushed his nose, bits of flesh caught in the crevices of his face and body. The information he'd just learned flew through his head, his intelligent mind analyzing each bit. But even it could spit out nothing of importance other than the one vital piece of info: _Ed's in Central._

Hawkeye found him there, expression blank as he stared at the blackened plumes rising from the charred body. If he noticed her presence, he said nothing, his back pin straight as he kept watching. Finally, Riza cleared her throat, her hand closing in on his shoulder. "Sir?" she asked, voice soft. He still made no motion that he acknowledged her. "Sir, what happened here? I saw you talking with him and then you suddenly snapped." A deep breath, but at least it was a movement.

"Ed's in Central," he murmured, even his voice betraying nothing. And then, he left, legs moving stiffly as he walked from the scene. But it didn't matter that he hadn't given her more than that. She understood now, and he knew that. And now, he needed to get to Central.

FMAFMA

The train creaked and groaned as it made its way down the path made by rickety old tracks. Mustang sat in a seat by a window, Hawkeye sitting loyally beside him while Havoc and Breda bickered quietly across the way. Fuery and Falman sat behind him, Fuery tinkering with some old radio. Each of their expressions carried some haunted exhaustion that was shared with all the soldiers returning from the battle. As the back-up troops, Mustang's group got one of the first tickets back to Central Command, leaving the soldiers that were actually stationed there to clean up shop. The Colonel wasn't going to complain; Central was where he was needed most anyway.

Just thinking about the Cretan Captain made his blood burn, his hand reaching into his pockets for his trusty gloves. He didn't care what side of the war the man was on; what man, a father nonetheless, would sit by and listen to a child scream and not do anything about it? It pissed him off to the core, onyx eyes narrowing at nothing in particular. His lips pressed into a bloodless line, twitching down into a tight frown. To think, he had been so close to finding Ed, only to have him snatched away by the same bastards that took him before. It was so damn infuriating to have all these conflicting emotions swirling around inside him. Heavy guilt sunk like a weighted rock in his stomach, pillowed by the brief excitement at a new clue and then accented by the despair that came with the realization that he'd have nowhere to go when he go to Central. If the Cretans had gone this long without being found, they wouldn't be found easily.

"Whatcha thinking about boss?" Havoc's voice filtered in through his thoughts, bringing his now shocked gaze to the young lieutenant. The man had a cigarette expertly balanced upon his lips, smoke billowing from the gap between his lips. His blue eyes were sparkling with energy, probably because of having won his pointless argument with Breda. Mustang resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the thought, instead painting a smirk on his face. He couldn't let his worry for his youngest subordinate color his feelings regarding his job, so a front it was.

"How much paperwork has probably piled up in my absence. I'm sure Hawkeye's gun is going to be occupied for a while," he responded smoothly, even forcing a small smile onto his lips. Havoc grinned widely, chuckling at the thought. Riza looked a bit miffed, grunting quietly even as her hand closed in on the gun always present on her hip.

"As much as I know that paperwork is in the back of your mind, that's not what you're thinking about, boss," the man commented with knowing smile. Mustang's eyes widened, if only momentarily visible. "Don't worry, Colonel. If he's in Central like you say he is, then we'll find him." Hawkeye smiled at him, the expression warm and comforting, matching Havoc's grin exactly, though his didn't bring the surge of guilt that came when looking at his most trusted subordinate.

"That's not all I'm thinking about," he murmured, ducking his eyes underneath the fringe of his black bangs. He could feel all of their gazes, though did not raise his head to meet each one. That was it. He had to know. Clearing his throat, he raised his eyes to lock with Havoc's curious blue orbs. "Havoc, what might have stopped Ed's abduction? What could I have done differently?" The blond was silent for a moment, eyes darkening in thought. Hawkeye's tawny gaze chilled with understanding when he risked a quick glance at her, his scowl deepening.

"Well, in all honesty, Colonel...," the 2nd lieutenant started slowly, his own face troubled. "The presence of a decent sniper might have changed the whole situation. There was no one watching our backs from above and on the ground, we could only do so much. I'm sorry, Colonel." Roy raised his hand, teeth now clenched behind his tightly pressed lips.

"You don't need to apologize, Havoc. I understand you did all you could. The fault was not yours." Only years of experience at hiding his emotions kept his voice as cool and calm as it normally sounded and not trembling with guilt like the hand in his pocket was doing. He shrugged Riza's hand away, her touch burning him like acid. He couldn't take even looking at her right now. It had been selfish, but he had done it anyway, and Ed was paying the price. Bile splashed at the back of his throat at the thought of what the young teen was going through right now and he swallowed it back down. Only now did he notice that the quiet sounds of clanking metal behind him silenced, each one of his men listening to him with the attention that any soldier would cherish.

Oh, _shit_. How was he going to explain all this to Alphonse? Bad enough that he had to deal with the disappearance of one Elric, the worried gaze of another was going to kill him, especially in light of the information he just heard. In his lap, his free hand curled into a fist unconsciously. "When we reach Central, gather your things and meet me at the office in one hour."

"And where will you be, sir?" Hawkeye questioned, her voice soft and stern. He inhaled deeply, releasing it in one hefty sigh.

"There's something I need to take care of."

FMAFMA

It should of come to no surprise that Riza followed him all the way to the dorms, where Alphonse was currently staying. She was quite sneaky when she needed to be, especially when those sharp instincts of hers pick up something that she didn't like. Mustang wondered if he honestly was getting that predictable. Sighing, he lifted a hand and knocked on the door to the Elrics' room, trying to ignore the fact that his hand was trembling like a leaf. "Coming!" a high-pitched, echoing voice announced through the door, and the guilt that Roy'd been cultivating since Ed had vanished surged, iron bands clamping around his lungs. Hawkeye finally made her presence known by walking up to stand next to him, her military issue boots clacking on the tile. He supposed he was grateful for her presence, despite the circumstances. The door swung open, a large clanking body standing in the entrance, glowing red eyes staring down at the pair. "Colonel? I thought you were in the west with Ed. What brings you here?" The voice was out of place in such a large and terrifying body, so honest and trusting. It made Roy want to dig a hole and die in it.

"Al, there's something we need to talk to you about," he informed the boy, his face crafted to look professional. Hawkeye stiffened at his side, looking as if she wanted to comfort him in any way she could. Al's head tilted slightly, the side of his head smacking against the edge of his shoulder with a clang.

"Where's Brother?" If it were at all possible, the innocent question made the Colonel want to die even more than before. He swallowed, pulling himself up straighter. The iron bands around his lungs tightened.

"Perhaps we should go inside and discuss this." Al stepped aside to let them in and the pair took no time to walk into the sparse room, listening to the final sounding click of the door closing. Roy wasn't entirely sure how this discussion was going to end, but he had two possibilities in mind: 1) Al was going to beat the shit out of him, 2) Al was going to break and make that choking sobbing sound that nobody could stand, in good conscience, to hear. He much preferred the former to the latter. Al motioned to the couch for them to sit, but Roy waved him off, preferring to stand. A silence fell between them that was soon becoming awkward.

"So what is it you wished to talk to me about Colonel?" Forcing saliva down his tight throat, he took as deep of a breath as was possible through the tightness surrounding his lungs. Could someone just strike him dead now and make his life so much easier? But with the perseverance of a true soldier, he trudged through his own emotions to complete his mission.

"It's about your brother Alphonse." Al gasped, his hand going to his face as if air was actually rushing in through the mouthpiece.

"What about Brother? What's happened?"

"He was taken as a prisoner of Creta." The sudden quietness was strange, the words falling heavily between him and the younger boy. How did one tell a young boy that his brother had been kidnapped by the enemy? As if to make it up to Al, the next words that came tumbling out of his mouth surprised even him. "I'm sorry Al. I tried to keep him safe but-" The armored boy cut him off.

"I'm sure you did everything you could, Colonel Mustang," Al reassured, his voice light and understanding. The slight hint of mild hysteria in his tone could almost be overlooked. And Mustang didn't think that he could feel _more_ like shit than he already did. This was a reaction he hadn't been expecting, for the boy to be calm and soothing. _But he really didn't do everything._

"We're doing everything we can to find him, Al. I won't let Ed stay in their hands for longer than the time it takes for me to locate him. I promise you that." A leather gauntlet fell to his shoulder, squeezing tight. "I'm so sorry, Al. I promised you that I would keep him safe and I failed. I'm so sorry." Roy was rambling, but he couldn't stop the words from flowing from his mouth.

"It's ok, Colonel. You're going to find him. I trust you." _But you shouldn't_. "Let's make another deal. I won't panic if you won't. Okay?" Mustang nodded dumbly. "Good," Al said, his voice finally starting to shake. "Because if you started to panic, then I'd know things were really bad. I won't give up on Brother, and I know you won't either." His throat and chest tight, the Colonel nodded again, his hand closing tightly on the hand on his shoulder.

FMAFMA

Mustang stared at the piece of paper in front of him, understanding the irony of the situation. It all started with a piece of paper after all. They had been back in Central for a full week, and yet he still hadn't completed this specific report. So here he was, holed up in his office cowering from a piece of paper that brought everything into perspective. The missing personnel's report; the Prisoner of War report. There were so many ways to say it, and yet none of them made it easier to bear. He still heard Havoc's words echoing in his head: _In all honesty, Colonel, the presence of a decent sniper might have changed the whole situation._ He let his head fall into his hands. So it really was all his fault. Somehow he'd been hoping that someone would prove him wrong, tell him that he was just being ridiculous. But Havoc confirmed his guilt.

He lifted the bottle that he'd been nursing for a good half hour and took another swig, the amber liquid burning a pleasant, and yet at the same time unpleasant, path down to his stomach. He'd sent the entirety of his group back home, and they'd done it, with the exception of Hawkeye, who'd hung around as long as she could before he started implying a court martial if she stayed any longer. And yet, that paper was still as it was when she'd placed it on his desk this morning, crisp and white with small printed instructions on the edges of the sheet. His hand shook as he finally gathered enough courage to lift the pen laying on his desk, pressing it firmly into the paper. This was just a report, this was just a report, this was just another fucking report.

With an angry snarl, he threw the pen, not really caring where it fell. Who was he kidding? He couldn't do this. He tipped the bottle into his mouth again, taking the alcohol in large gulps. In his mind's eye, glowing red eyes stared at him, judging him, _blaming_ him. Tears pricked at his eyes as yet another image assaulted him, this one gold and silver stained with a bright, shiny scarlet. It smeared across pale skin, soaked into absorbent cotton, smudged against the dull brown of rock. More amber began trickling down his throat, the bottle practically upside down as he tried to get the remaining dregs of whiskey from the prison-like bottom.

The first line on the paper read only a few words: Describe in detail the events that led up to this case. His onyx gaze stared at that one line, a thousand thoughts and words assaulting his head at once. _A decent sniper might have... Did everything you could... Blame me?... You never did... Panic then I know things are bad... Won't give up on Brother... _He put his hands to his ears and whimpered, screwing his eyes shut against the dim lighting of the moon reflecting against the bright paper on his desk. The words stopped, but the visions began.

_Hand reaching to him, covered in blood... red jacket sprawled on the ground, flapping in the breeze... blood everywhere... scorch marks littering the ground... Hawkeye standing at his back... Golden hair swaying as its master was draped over a shoulder... Silver, black, scarlet, gold, blond, blue, scarlet, white, scarlet, scarlet, scarlet, scarlet! He was covered in it. He couldn't get it off... _

He snapped his eyes open, frantically digging through a drawer for another bottle of whiskey that he knew was tucked safely away. It was with great relief that his fingers met the cold touch of glass and he took no time to pop it open and take a large swallow. He'd given up on the glass ages ago, the amount never seeming to be enough. The liquid chased away the visions, but not the feelings they left behind. Tears streamed from his eyes, guilt pressing into his heart in an actual painful manner. The alcohol dulled the pain.

How could he let this happen? The boys had come to him to find something they desperately needed and he leads them off to war, to destruction. Ed was probably cursing his name right now and he deserved it. Only the lowest type of ass holds out one someone he swore to protect because of his own selfish needs. What if Hawkeye found out what he'd done? God, what if Al found out? The guilt surged, Riza's visage swimming before his blurry eyes. He'd had an opportunity to prevent this kidnapping, hell, he'd even received a warning, but he didn't take it. He didn't fucking take it!

Glass shattered against the wall, falling to the ground in wet plops. The mostly full bottle had flung alcohol everywhere, sprinkling the floor with its intoxicating smell and taste. Tears were falling in earnest now, remorse and self-loathing filling his being to the absolute brim. Ed was in the lowest form of hell right now and he was sitting here getting drunk off his ass. What the fuck was wrong with him? It was all his fault. Everything. From dragging the teen into the war to getting him captured. He should rot.

Rubbing at his eyes, he collapsed to the floor by the mess he'd made, knees crunching on broken glass. He was unsure of when he'd stood, but the ground was so much more comfortable. He'd fucked up, big time. But he had to fix it. But he had nothing to go on, absolutely nothing. His last clue pointed him towards Central. But as Havoc would say, Central was a big place and Ed wasn't so big. He was going to fail again, he just knew it. His fingers dunked into the pool of whiskey, palms pressing to the floor. Salt water dripped into the mess, ripples spreading out from the entrance point. "Oh, God," he whispered. "Please don't let me fail again. Not for Ed. He's like my son."

Warm hands pulled him up from his shoulders, strong, familiar, _feminine_ arms encircling him. "It's okay, Roy," she whispered in his ear. "You won't fail again." She yanked him up from the floor, her chestnut eyes moist with tears that she wouldn't let flow. Her blond hair fell down his shoulders, released from its usual clamp. She led him away from his office, practically pushing him out the door.

"But, the report," he slurred, his arm flinging out towards his desk with the coordination of an infant. Her hand tightened on his shoulder, her lips pressing together in worry, but not for the blond boy, but for _him_.

"Don't worry about it, Roy. I'll do it tomorrow." Guilt still pulsing strong inside his chest, he rested his damp cheek on her shoulder, unsure of when they'd gotten into this position. When did they get outside?

"M'kay..." His eyes drifted shut and he allowed Riza to direct where he went. He trusted her, and despite she was the cause of his failings and her very presence filled him with negative emotions, she was safe, she would always be safe.

* * *

_DA: And here's a longer chapter than the last! Hehe. I am absolutely in love with this chapter. I feel it's both powerful and effective. I love getting into Mustang's head and prying him apart to find out how he thinks. :D Yes, I'm sick and twisted. And I hope that you enjoy my sick and twistedness. _

_Alright, that's all I got in me today. I'm just gonna go curl up to relieve some bad cramps. Ugh. But I hope you enjoyed!_

_May your hearts stay strong,_

_DarkAngel555_


	6. Chapter 6

_DA: Jeez, this has been one helluva week, so I apologize immensely for the late update. I've been working on autopilot all day today and concentration has been a thing of nonexistence. But I hauled myself off my ass to update because I don't want to disappoint anyone! I love you guys that much!_

_Disclaimer: Nope, nada, nothing, zilch... Need I go on?_

_DA: Anyways, onto the chapter. The usual warnings apply. This chapter is pretty vicious so be warned now. ENJOY!_

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Darkness to Dawn

Chapter 6

When the Brigadier General walked into the room, Ed, chained to the wall, had several people surrounding him. One soldier was holding him down, hands tightening rather painfully around the shackles on boy's wrists. The others had prepared and eager fists, taking turns digging their knuckles into the teen's abdomen. Another had his palms wrapped securely around the blond's throat, squeezing tightly as if to actually kill him. His golden gaze was dazed, pupils dilated in a way that wasn't exactly healthy. His forehead was scraped as if it had been dragged across the floor, blood trickling down the bridge of his nose and into the corners of his eyes. Under the scrape was a rather dark bruise that could be mistaken as a clump of dirt smudged around the injury. The entirety of his face was accented by more contusions, blood crusting the edges of several of them. His lips were starting to turn blue, an interesting choking sound gurgling from his mouth.

Brigadier General Hubert cleared his throat and the men released the small boy, standing at attention to their superior. The Brigadier General merely grinned, letting them scatter off in various directions, and inspected his prisoner. Ed, now that he was no longer being held back, curled unconsciously inward, his free hand protectively cradling his abused torso. Definitely bruised ribs, if they weren't broken. Ed coughed weakly, moaning quietly as he turned to face his new company. "Oh, shit," he mumbled, spitting out some blood that had caught in his mouth. "Thought I was rid of you when they moved me. Must be unlucky." He grinned snidely at the Brigadier General, not realizing the effect was somewhat ruined by the scarlet smeared over his white teeth. The Brigadier General rolled his eyes, already getting used to the alchemist's rudeness.

"I was wondering whether you'd changed your mind Elric," he said, his brown eyes glittering with triumph. "All this would end if you just agreed to our terms. Wouldn't that make everything easier?" It was Ed's turn to roll his eyes, lips closing over his teeth.

"What's right isn't always easy. But you wouldn't know that would you General Shithead?" The older man's cheeks colored at the nickname, his temper rising steadily. Ed had a talent for pressing a person's buttons and he knew it and used it to his advantage. After all, it was far easier to manipulate an enemy if he was too angry to control himself.

"You know the drill, boy," the Brigadier General hissed, his back tensed. "I'm going to offer one more time and then things get ugly." The blond remained silent, goading him with those golden eyes that shone in the dim lighting of the cell. It never mattered how much of his blood coated the floor; those eyes never lost their luster. The Cretan General sighed, glaring at the alchemist. "Just remember, you asked for this." He pulled a key from his pocket and released the boy from the chains, each cuff falling to the tile in individual clanks. Ed's eyebrows furrowed, confused at this development. He wasn't sure whether this was good or bad yet.

The greying man dug the tip of his polished boot into his stomach, forcing the boy onto his back. Ed shut his eyes briefly against the resulting pain that sprang up from the collision. "Are you sure you don't want to reconsider your answer?" The Brigadier General's foot rested comfortably on the young man's chest, his grinning face peering down at him. Ed's own eyes just narrowed, annoyed with the constant questions. His answer was always going to be the same dammit! "Suit yourself." The foot lifted and dropped, slamming down hard on his flesh knee.

The agony started instantly, the pressure too much on the joint. Ed felt the scream building up in his throat, but he didn't dare let it out. The Brigadier General shifted forward, forcing his whole weight on the already straining appendage. Something popped, tendons and ligaments shearing and tearing. Pain shot up his leg with each snap, tears rushing to his eyes. Black dots speckled his vision as the kneecap finally cracked, shattering underneath the full weight of the older man on the bone. Ed swallowed back the rough cry of pain that tried to rush from his mouth. Well, this stopped any chance of him escaping on his own.

It took him a few moments to realize that the foot had been removed, the older man stepping away from him. He shifted experimentally, only to find that anything that jostled his knee sent sharp agony burning up each one of his nerves. The color drained from his face at the bent form filling his pant-leg and he averted his gaze back to the bastard who caused this damage. If he had a limp for the rest of his life because of this, this asshole was going to pay. "Is that all you got asswipe?" he still managed to snarl despite the throbbing pain that interrupted anything he tried to say with a steady voice. "I've seen rocks do a better job than you. More intelligent too." The Brigadier General's face glowed with that brilliant shade of red that Ed was so proud of inspiring in the man. He was gasping, the pain unreal.

The Cretan's foot raised again, a malicious grin lighting the alarmingly colored face. A blur of polished black was all Ed got for a warning, a mere split second to brace himself. With only a deep breath as preparation, the foot slammed into the teen's forearm, pressing harder and harder until an audible crack echoed through the empty room. The blond choked on a scream, his vision dimming. Hubert's foot twisted on the broken limb, the torn edges of the bone grinding against one another. Tears streamed down his face, pained sobs emerging strangled from his throat. With one final stomp, the pressure eased, the now separated bone rubbing unnaturally against the inside of his skin.

He took deep, frantic breaths through his nose, releasing them slowly out his mouth. His heart fluttered excitedly in his chest, thudding painfully against his bruised ribs. Vaguely, he could hear the Brigadier General chuckling, but he lacked the strength to snip at him. It would take a while to gather the energy to do so, so he remained silent, making attempts to regulate his breathing. Sharp agony flared red hot at any movement, even the subtle shifting of his chest as it rose to accommodate air. Any color that had gathered in his face after the last injury was long gone by now, his skin greyish in color. Heavy bangs fell into his eyes, his eyelids trying to force themselves closed. He couldn't give in. To do so would let the asshole General know that he was winning. Nope. Not happening. Death would come before unconsciousness.

Metal scraped against metal, the sound of some sort of blade being drawn from a sheath. Ed's eyes flew open, adrenaline snaking through his veins to wake him from his pained stupor. Swallowing harshly, he forced himself upright to lean against the wall, keeping his golden gaze trained carefully on the soldier advancing slowly, a curved knife clutched in his grasp. Hadn't enough of his blood been spilled already? He could still taste it on his tongue, feel it soaking his ripped clothing. Brigadier General Hubert sighed, lifting the knife to his face. He pressed a finger lightly against the edge, smiling when it took a bit more than a touch to slit the skin. "Why do you have to be so difficult?" he questioned, sounding disappointed. The boy's responding smirk took far more effort than he would admit to, fatigue weighing him down.

"Because, unlike you assholes, _I _have morals. Not surprising really, seeing as your torture techniques seem to be lacking refinement. What? Am I your first prisoner?" Even his voice sounded exhausted, slurring slightly with flecks of pain. But the effect was not lost with the weakness of his tone, the Brigadier General's face twisting into an ugly scowl, brown eyes smoldering in dark anger.

"I have destroyed many a man through these techniques, boy. You will soon fall. Just like they did." Ed could feel the beginnings of fear brush against his insides, the dim lighting reflecting off the silver of the polished blade. Shit, not good. He couldn't even transmute properly. With broken limbs, the amount of concentration necessary for alchemy just couldn't happen. Not without a sizable amount of time. And even if he could find it in him to transmute, his automail hadn't been working properly since that engineer had been fucking around with their insides. Maybe this really was going to be the end of him...

The knife raised and the alchemist flung his metal arm up to protect his already aching head. Metal clanged and a line of fire traced from the bottom of his shoulder port to his hip, warmth spilling over the injury. Muscles severed, the skin splitting neatly in two to allow for the movement of the knife down his side. Broken or not, his flesh hand clamped over the injury the moment the Brigadier General retreated, feeling blood slip neatly between his fingers. Heavy drops ran down his fingers and onto the floor, joining the small pool created by the excess dripping from the knife. Hubert eyed the film over his weapon, pleasure flickering in his brown eyes. The pain almost didn't register, the pain of shattered bones well overtaking that of a simple cut, but it did, adding to the overall throbbing throughout his body.

"Is...that all you...got?" he muttered between gasps, sweat running in stinging streams down his face. Something told him he should probably shut the hell up about now, but seeing as he'd never listened to that voice before, he ignored it, falling back on battle-honed instincts. The Brigadier General's eyebrow rose, lips curling into a cruel smirk.

"You want more boy?" Ed's throat closed up, his mind solely concentrating on regulating the flow of oxygen in and out of his body. The bloodstained blade flashed as it swung down again, sinking deeply into the calf just below his injured knee. He gasped, head thrown back against the pain as it jostled the already injured knee, sending sharp spikes of pure agony traveling up his spine. A pitiful moan reached his ears as the soldier brutally twisted the blade, scarlet life spurting up slightly into the man's face. Appearing disgusted, Hubert backed off once more, dragging the knife from the wound. He rubbed at his face with gloved hands, the blood smearing across his skin and staining the white cloth. "I can't believe you don't realize how incredibly stupid you're being. I'm offering you your life and what do you do, ignore it and accepting the pain with open arms. Your ignorance never ceases to amaze me." Throwing the knife to the ground, excess blood spattering across the tile from the edge of the blade, he knelt down and picked up something at his feet, measuring the weight of it in his hands.

Ed, more than a little dizzy from blood loss, stared at the new makeshift weapon, not truly recognizing the threat for what it was. His hand had moved from its place around his side to grasp at his calf, pain etched on his paling face. His golden eyes were wide and blank, the pupils expanding by the second. His body trembled against his will, cold leeching up from his fingertips. Of his surroundings however, he was hyper-aware. The wall pressed against his back was rough and cold to the touch, the individual roughness of each brick more annoying than painful; the floor was freezing, the tile sapping any warmth he had left to share, and slowly growing more and more slick with his own blood. Shock. He was definitely going into shock.

A dark blur swung in front of him and the blond flinched belatedly, the metal rod already slamming hard into his chest. Ribs crunched beneath the unyielding metal, the force of the blow sending his mostly limp body skidding away from the wall that he'd been using as support to keep sitting upright. Sounds faded and crackled, someone yelling something in anger, but he was too far gone to feel the pain, nor distinguish words from the noise. The Brigadier General appeared above him, anger twisting his expression into something fierce. The bar swished downward again, an unsettling cracking sound filtering through the mess of his own beating heart. Intense pain pulled him from his fog and he came rushing back into himself in a burst, a raw scream pouncing from his lips. His arm, oh God, his _arm_! The scream tapered off into gasping sobs, his body curling around the severely injured limb.

His automail arm couldn't feel the blood rushing between the plates and into the wiring, nor could he see the cut that the rod had torn into his forearm, his artificial limb blocking all site of the injury. A hand grasped at his collar, yanking him to meet a pair of furious eyes. "You don't pass out until I'm done with you, got it?" Ed remembered just enough to be pissed at the man, spitting bloody saliva directly into the older man's face. With a displeased grunt, the boy was thrown to the floor once more, head colliding harshly against the unforgiving stone. "You will regret your decision, Elric."

Ed wasn't sure where he found the strength to form intelligible words, but he was proud of himself. "Like...hell...I will..." Even if they were half moaned and spat furiously through his clenched teeth before he lost his cognition completely. The Brigadier General, who himself was looking rather ragged, blood dripping from his face and staining his clothing, snarled, bringing his weapon up once more. Had he done that? He just wasn't sure of anything right now.

Before the blond could even move, the pole had been thrust into his leg, just above the automail port on his left thigh. An anguished scream left his bloodied lips as it dug deeper and deeper,digging through countless muscles and tendons, skin tearing with each inch. When he thought it could go no further, it slammed into the bone, bringing another rush of agony up to accompany the injury.

And it kept _going_.

Ed tried to weakly withdraw his leg, but every movement was fruitless, the rod jammed far enough in where it couldn't be moved. The Brigadier General had even yanked at it for good measure, but nothing. Pain was overwhelming him, dragging him under a sea of black. The older man twisted the pole, dragging a weaker yell from the boy.

Ed was losing his battle with consciousness. Right before his coherency left him, a muttered sentence brushed against ears that were losing their sensitivity. "Great. I think I overdid it... Looks like plan B has become our only option..." And then the world faded to a peaceful and painless black around the teenaged alchemist.

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_DA: You know, sometimes I feel really bad about what I'm doing to Ed, but then I shake my head and admit to myself that I enjoy it. Haha. I hope this chapter was as thrilling as the last torture scene, perhaps more so! _

_I think I'm going to extend my post time to include 8:00PM EST. Half the time, I'm so tired after school that I can't manage to muster the energy to get to my computer till later in the day. But I will still post on Friday's until this fic is done!_

_I'm gonna leave you with this for today! As always tell me what you think about today's chapter and see you all next Friday!_

_May your hearts stay strong,_

_DarkAngel555_


	7. Chapter 7

_DA: Jeez, I extend my deadline and I still miss it... Damn it all... Sorry guys. I had a friend over this afternoon and forgot it was Friday... Forgive me?_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist._

_Alright guys! Here's the new chapter! Usual warnings apply._

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Darkness to Dawn

Chapter 7

Havoc strolled down the marketplace, his blue eyes scoping out any possible dates for the night. So far any that seemed likely he'd either already tried, or they'd already been taken by his superior officer at an earlier date. His annoyance was almost tangible, lips pursed around the thin cancer stick he'd shoved in his mouth not a moment prior. The thing hadn't even been lit yet. He fished around in his pocket for the ever elusive lighter, hoping nobody from the office had taken it. Again. Mustang really enjoyed pulling that stunt, but lately, the others had been stepping up their games prank-wise to make up for their commanding officer's lack of humor. Hawkeye had moved her desk into Mustang's office under the guise that he needed extra supervision so he wouldn't fall asleep, especially after such a long break from desk work. But they weren't stupid. They'd all seen the look on the Colonel's face when she'd placed _the _report on his desk. And they all didn't say a word when they saw her filling out said report the next day, a strange worried look in her chestnut eyes and the scent of alcohol thick in the office.

Something had happened that night, and in all honesty, Havoc didn't want to know. His fingers touched the cold metal of his lighter, a surge of glee racing through him. Take that assholes. Nobody was going to take his smoke tonight! He lit his cigarette, smoke already curling from the tip of it. It tickled his throat as he inhaled, wafting from his lips as he exhaled. Ah, there was nothing like a good cigarette. Already his mood was improving. Keeping his eyes peeled for any attractive women, he continued his trek down the street. Today was his day. He could feel it. The day that he would finally get a girlfriend!

Sunlight glinted into his eyes, reflected off something shiny in the vicinity. Blinking, he glanced around for it, his mind's eye seeing a jeweled broach attached to a woman's shirt. But alas, it wasn't meant to be. The light had come from a rather large man, the sun mirroring off his shaved head. The man was facing him, but not looking at the soldier, though his sunglasses made it really hard to tell. Faint stubble brushed against the underside of the man's face, hinting at the black shade that would color his head if not for the self-inflicted baldness. His nose was crooked as if it had been punched one to many times, a scar tracing the skin above his right eyebrow. Dressed in simple clothing, he might have been overlooked if not for the reflective quality of his head. Havoc almost turned away after discovering the source, but something held his gaze, some memory. Had he seen this man before?

Nah, probably not. When was the last time he'd been out, really out? Before the war, of that he was certain. Unless he'd seen him during the war, but that was just outrageous. A chuckle started to leave his throat when a thought suddenly occurred to him. Maybe it wasn't so outrageous... Mustang said that Ed was in Central, so the Cretans had to have a base located somewhere in the area. His blue eyes snapped back to the man's face, scanning it again for recognition. Again, there was a faint blur of _something, _but nothing he could put his finger on. It wouldn't hurt to follow him for a while.

The blond pulled to the side, putting up the guise of inspecting an item in a pawn shop. After the possible Cretan passed him, he slipped away from the shop, keeping a few paces behind the man. He only wished that he'd been able to call in for backup here, but this was a split second decision, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He could do this; he couldn't doubt himself. Walking casually, he kept his hands tucked into his pockets, his mouth curled around the comforting curve of the cigarette.

The man gave no sign that he knew he was being tailed, walking confidently down the street with a grace that only a commoner, or someone equally familiar with Central's streets, could manage. Havoc knew without uncertainty that a man had at least one gun hidden in that long jacket, a idea that sent a chill down his spine as he sent a wistful thought towards his own gun, resting on his desk at home. He'd forgotten it there this morning, and now he was paying for it. That just meant that this was an exploratory mission. Damn his thoughtlessness. The man took a sharp turn and Havoc peered down the way, pleased that it was still a populated road, before turning himself.

He almost lost him a few times, but the bald head was a dead giveaway for his position, and so that panic was usually short lived, though it never failed to give him a minor heart attack. When the man turned into a phone booth, Havoc took a position leaning on a nearby building, but within earshot. This conversation would be good, he could feel it.

The man fished a few coins from his pocket and fed them into the machine, bringing the phone to his ear. "General, this is Hunter. I have what you need," he said, his gruff voice finally bringing on the memories that'd been tinkering on the edge of Havoc's consciousness. _Come quietly and I won't have to pull this trigger._ Fuck! This wasn't just an accomplice in Ed's case, this _was_ the man who'd kidnapped Ed. Well, this decided everything. He was going to keep following the man until he led him directly to the Cretan hideout. "Yes sir. Has everything been prepared with the boy?" Havoc's eyes widened. Ed. "I'll be returning to base within the hour." Without a goodbye, the man, who'd unintentionally introduced himself as Hunter, hung up, and turned away from the booth. The soldier quickly averted his gaze, pulling his cigarette from his lips to release a long stream of smoke. He could almost feel Hunter's gaze as it swept over him. Thank God today was his day off, or he'd be in military uniform right now. That would have given him straight away.

Glancing up, he noticed that the Cretan had left, heading towards the suburbs of Central. Havoc resisted the urge to smack himself in the forehead, a realization hitting him. Of course the base was located in the suburbs. Half of the area was abandoned factories and the other half was wooded area. Why hadn't they started looking their first? As they moved further and further from populated areas, the soldier had to start lengthening the distance between them for fear of being spotted.

He didn't notice as his smoke burned to nothing, ash dropping from the end. Spitting it out, he noticed that they'd reached the border between the city and its suburbs. Hunter paused before stepping over, scanning the area nearby. Havoc dove into a nearby alleyway, his heart pounding in his chest. Shit, that had been close, too close. Peeking his head out from behind the edge of a building, he sighed in relief upon seeing that the man had moved on, finally striding into the more wooded area. Straightening his clothing, he too walked into the suburbs, this time making sure to extend the length between him and his target.

Either Hunter was a cocky son of a bitch, or he was just plain dumb, for after that first cautious scan, he did not look back once, his head remaining where it was. From prior experience with this man, Havoc guessed it was the first, resisting the urge to rub the side of his head, where the gun had once left an impressive mark. An uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, he continued on, missing the feeling of the thin roll of tobacco between his teeth. He couldn't light one here though. The sound and smell would give away his position. The large man led him into a heavily forested area, which the solider was almost certain contained an abandoned warehouse large enough to house an invading force if necessary. The feeling increased, a nervous nausea churning in his abdomen.

He almost stopped there, almost positive that this would be enough to let him and the others find their missing member, but something urged him forward. How did he know Ed was actually here? So he continued following the Cretan, falling back even further until the man was nothing but a pinprick in his vision. Trying to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible, he took a roundabout route at tailing him, taking strange turns, but still keeping the large man in his sight.

He ducked behind a tree as they approached a clearing, a large building standing tall at its center. Just as he'd thought, an abandoned warehouse. Havoc made no movement to continue following Hunter, contenting himself with just watching him enter the building. At least he had proof that this existed, but how to get proof that their missing alchemist was here... He might have been good at sneaking, but he wasn't _that_ good. If he entered, he would get caught. It wasn't something they could afford right now.

His question was soon answered, but in a way that made the soldier's already queasy stomach clench. A scream, loud enough to escape the brick walls, echoed around the forest, heavy with anguish. That was Ed. The sound rolled around in Havoc's head, his own thoughts drifting back to the battle. That fucking battle. He still couldn't think of anything that might have changed the ending of it. They'd simply been outnumbered and exhausted, days upon days of numerous other battles wearing them down. Anything Havoc could have done would have been fruitless. Perhaps this was a best case scenario, for Ed hadn't been too badly injured when he was captured. Probably wasn't the case now...

Swallowing, he drew himself back up, unsure of when he'd hunched over, and began running, not caring that his footsteps now crunched loudly against the brush of the forest floor. He had to tell Mustang. Ed couldn't stay in that building. Not for any longer.

_Hang on boss. Help's coming_.

FMAFMA

"Is everything ready, Brigadier General?"

"Yes, sir. I just finished reworking the circle to fit our needs."

"Good. And Amestris?"

"Still clueless. Though...The entire military is on alert."

"What did you expect? You kidnapped their most famous alchemist, who serves under another famous alchemist. I'm sure Mustang's throwing a fit." A snort. "Do it tonight. I want no mistakes."

"Yes, sir."

FMAFMA

Mustang started, eyes wide, when the door to his office slammed open, revealing a gasping Havoc. Huh... Wasn't today Jean's day off? What the hell was he doing here? "Havoc...Wha-"

"I'm sorry to have woke you sir, but this is important," the blond wheezed between desperate gasps for air. At the mention of sleep, Hawkeye, who'd been gathering paperwork in the outer office, craned her head to glare at her superior. Mustang swallowed at the look and glowered at the heavily breathing man, onyx eyes flinty with annoyance. Havoc threw him an apologetic grin, the expression trembling. Irritation fading slightly, Roy raked his gaze over his subordinate. The blond was pale, blue eyes wide and startled. His hair was windswept and messy, his clothes not in much better condition. A sheen of sweat shone on his forehead, trickling gently down the side of his face. More astonishing than the physical appearance was that the cigarette that was forever present, even in the office, was absent, his lips instead firmly pressed together.

"I wasn't sleeping, 2nd lieutenant," the black-haired man protested weakly. The incredulous looks he received after that were totally unwarranted. He didn't sleep _that_ much while at work... "Now what the hell was so important that you had to barge into my office at all, much less on your day off?" Havoc took a few more steadying breaths before straightening from his slightly hunched over position, looking his superior officer directly in the eye.

"I know where Ed is." All the normal office noise settled, silence falling like a blanket over the rooms. Mustang sat frozen at his desk, eyes wide and face pale. His mouth fell open and snapped shut multiple times, the words rushing through his mind not quite reaching his lips. Finally, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, collecting himself. Now was not the time for a hope-driven display of emotion. Standing slowly, using his arms as leverage, he walked over to his subordinate and gripped the man's arms tight, the material of the shirt crinkling under his hands. His onyx gaze bore into one of sapphire.

"Are you absolutely sure, Havoc? We cannot afford to make a mistake." He shook the man with each few words, his tone urgent. Havoc nodded sharply, his lips curled slightly downward in a serious frown.

"I heard..." He trailed off, taking a shaky breath. He shook his head, refusing to finish that sentence. "Let's just say I'm willing to stake my life on it." Those dark eyes searched the pair opposite him, looking for any trace of doubt. Finding none, the Colonel backed off, sighing.

"Alright, I'll hear the report later. Falman!" The man in question stood, saluting at his superior. "Work with Havoc and try to find a floor map of the place. We'll work from there. We move out tonight." Mustang smiled as he watched his men launch into action, a flurry of activity centered in the usually boring office space. It was good to finally feel normal again. Sneaky plans he could do. Waiting...not so much.

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_DA: Hope I threw you guys for a loop by switching to Havoc for a little bit. I like keeping people on their toes. It's a hobby of mine. I'm on spring break now guys! Rest and relaxation for this girl! _

_Anyways, as always, tell me what you think! Next chapter is the beginning of the rescue operation, which should hopefully make up for the shortness of this chapter. Hehe... But see you all next week!_

_May your hearts stay strong,_

_DarkAngel555_


	8. Chapter 8

_DA: Well, once again I'm absolutely dumbfounded at the response. Each review makes me so happy, like you guys have no idea. And for that, I thank you. Each and every one of you is amazing and I'm thankful that you've stuck with me for this. _

_...It sounds like I'm ending the story... Hahahahah. No, don't worry. I'm not. I still have a few chapters left in this story. Jeez, I try to sound grateful and come off as conclusive. Don't mind me. I just don't feel the greatest and I'm a little loopy. _

_Disclaimer: Unfortunately don't own the rights to FMA. The manga/anime/anything else related might have ended up 1000 times bloodier if I did. _

_Usual warnings apply! ENJOY!_

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Darkness to Dawn

Chapter 8

"Alright men, you know what part each of you play in this plan, correct?" Mustang asked, glancing at each of them in turn. They were huddled behind the thick bushes that surrounded the clearing of the Cretan lair, their last stop before they stormed the place. "We're going in, retrieving Ed, and leaving. There are to be no injuries and, if you find yourself unable to manage that, then there's especially to be no deaths. Got it?" They nodded, expressions grave. The plan was more involved than that, of course. Once inside the building, they would split into two groups, Fuery, Falman, and Breda in one, and himself, Havoc, and Hawkeye in the other. The first group's objective was simple: plant charges to destroy the warehouse. The second group had the main objective of the mission, saving their lost subordinate. Mustang nodded in return, slipping on his gloves.

"Are we sure there's another exit, sir?" Hawkeye asked, her gun already held at ready. His fingers halted right before he snapped, his mind quickly scanning through the building layout in his mind. Falman had found these floor plans relatively quickly, and for that he was incredibly thankful. However, the lieutenant was right. If he blew open the door without checking for the other exit, they would be setting themselves up for disaster. Catching Havoc's eye, he nodded. The blond soldier leaned forward and slipped away into the darkness of the forest, curving around the area.

When the man returned, a terse nod his response to the Colonel's question before it was even asked. Roy sighed, the exit flashing in the map he'd visualized. "I'm positive lieutenant," he responded quietly, bringing his hand up once more to take aim. He had one shot. If he missed, there would be no going back. His fingers were tensed and poised, pressed against one another in a seemingly harmless fashion. But still he hesitated. What if the plan didn't work? Hell, what if Havoc was mistaken about what he heard? Then all of this effort would have been for nothing and they might very well be walking into a trap. With five other people to think about, Mustang had to ponder his actions very, very carefully.

Then, he heard it, a sound he'd only heard about before. Ed's scream. Ignoring the varying gasps of astonishment and concern from his group, he forced saliva down his suddenly tight throat. Havoc was right; there was no mistaking the scream, cracking with pubescence and pure agony. Closing his eyes, he turned away and snapped, feeling the flames shoot from his fingertips. It didn't matter that he no longer had perfect aim. This was going to end. Now.

FMAFMA

Ed woke to a burning pain, something sharp pressing into the skin of his back. Hot blood ran in thick streams down his side, soaking the waistband of his pants. Paper crinkled by his ear, but he lacked the energy to open his eyes and look. Everything was fuzzy, his hearing buzzing in and out as if the signal was weak. Even his thoughts wafted in and out incoherently.

The Brigadier General smiled as he watched his men lift the knife and press it somewhere else into the prisoner's lower back, his grin widening at the satisfying squelch as it penetrated the skin. Ed moaned, his head shifting against the tile. Good, the boy was conscious. The idiot needed to feel his full punishment caused by his impossible attitude. "Be careful, men," he ordered. "Everything needs to be exactly as drawn on that paper. There will be severe consequences if that is not accomplished."

The lieutenant with the blade continued on as if nothing had been said, sliding it along the exposed skin. The boy's cries of protest were growing, awareness returning quickly as pain dragged him quite unmercifully from the darkness. General Herbert motioned and the lieutenant pressed down, the knife digging deeper into the pale flesh. He recoiled as Ed arched, a rough scream tearing from his already raw throat. Weakened, he collapsed back onto the floor, coughing tiredly against the pain.

With another hand motion, the other soldiers jumped into action, pushing the alchemist's shoulders harshly into the floor. They winced internally at the sharp cry, tears tracing through the thin film of blood and grime coating the kid's face. The carver continued, the knife returning to its original position. Ed writhed weakly, unable to move much more than that due to the heavy hands restraining him. His thoughts refused to force themselves through the haze of pain and bloodloss, only a strong survival instinct shining prominently in his mind. He choked on sobs, the blade a line of fire in his back.

_Boom_.

The building shook with an explosion, the knife jerking upward, drawing yet another yelp from his lips. The Brigadier General's smile twitched into an angry scowl, his eyes narrowing dangerously. It seemed that they'd been discovered. "Continue men. Do not make a mistake! And do not take forever! It seems time has suddenly become a luxury which we no longer have." Blood was pooling under the teen, some spurting onto the lieutenant's uniform as the pace of the carving increased.

Edward panted harshly against the pain, not fully understanding his situation. His only comprehension was of the never-ending agony throbbing from everywhere and of the blood dripping unnaturally from his skin. A bubble of hysterical laughter escaped faintly from his mouth, thin and breaking. To think, the age's brightest alchemist had been reduced to a sobbing child due to mere pain. Another wave crashed over him as the weapon was ripped from his body.

Footsteps clacked nearby, more paper rustling from somewhere above him. "Good. Now I must take my leave. Make it look inconspicuous, but do _not_ touch that mark. I don't want to risk them finding it if they manage to succeed." The boots moved away as Ed finally remembered how to move his eyelids, cracking open his golden eyes. He only saw the Brigadier General open the door and slam it shut behind him before they slipped shut again, his body being jerked upright while he hung limply between two soldiers.

FMAFMA

With Mustang leading the group, they sprinted through the thin, now smoky corridors of the warehouse, swiftly dealing with anyone who crossed their path. It seemed as if the soldiers were in complete disarray after Mustang's alchemy-fueled explosion, no one quite knowing what they were doing. Any that they met sloppily raised their guns, the weapons clattering clumsily in hands that normally were skilled in wielding it. So far, the plan was moving along well, but they were all secretly expecting the one thing that could ruin everything. The one obstacle that somehow always managed to appear and could destroy the mission, causing deaths that should be avoided.

Sprinting past a gunman, Roy dove into a stairwell, wincing internally at the gunfire that echoed as he passed. Some relief swelled within him as each of his men followed him, pausing as he did. "Alright. Fuery, Falman, you're with Breda. Hawkeye, Havoc, you're with me. You know your assigned goals. Good luck," he informed them swiftly, raising his right hand to his brow in a sharp salute. They all returned it, determination lining each of their expressions. Fuery checked his bag for the explosives and nodded at Breda, who returned the movement and then gave the order to move out. Their group marched off, heading downstairs to plant the bombs on the weak spots on the building's structure.

Sighing, the black-haired man gave no order, but began his trek up the stairs, knowing instinctively that his men would follow him. This was where they supposed Ed had been taken and he hoped to God that they were right. This building was far to large for them to be off the mark and if they were, it might cost Ed his life. Roy suppressed the responding shiver, a pair of soul-red eyes bouncing in his mind, somehow managing to be full of worry and fear despite not being human in nature.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, his heart plummeted, dropping like a rock into his stomach. The single hallway was _lined_ with damned rooms and he knew that there was more paths adjacent to this one. Of course it would be fucking impossible to find one small alchemist in a warehouse this size and if the kid was in as bad shape as Mustang assumed he was, then there would be no help from his end. Steadying himself with a deep breath, he steeled himself to check every room. He was _not _going to leave without his goal, not after they'd gotten this far.

"You two," he addressed his small force, turning around. "Start checking every room. Call me instantly if you find anything." They saluted and ran off, a strange look in both of their gazes that he couldn't exactly place, though it was far stronger in Riza's gaze than Havoc's. He dismissed his thoughts rather quickly, his gloved hand closing around the cold steel of a door handle. Tugging the door open, he glanced inside, leaning through the doorway to gain a good idea of what occupied the room. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Dammit!

Slamming the door shut, he moved onto the next one, a sharp scowl creasing his face for every locked door and barren room. He could hear the clacks of doors closing somewhere down the hallway, quiet swears invading the otherwise quiet airspace. Havoc was starting to get frustrated, something he could sympathize with quite readily with, much to his disdain. His scowl deepened as he moved onto the next door, already making the deduction that the damned thing was empty. His accurate prediction only proved to fuel the fury burning loudly in his gut, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

His teeth were clenched behind lips that were firmly pressed together, his dark eyes narrowed dangerously. No soldiers had met them up here as of yet, a fact that unsettled him more than his lack of success, but if one were to come by, their flesh would fry. He angrily yanked the next door open, slamming it shut with more force than necessary at his discovery, rather lack thereof. "C'mon, Ed," he muttered under his breath, glancing up at the ceiling. "Give us a sign here."

Mustang's initial hope at discovering the boy's location was fading fast, slipping through the cracks deepened by failures. This place was too fucking big and Ed was small enough to be lost forever if the person in charge knew where to hide him. His head jerked up, a scream rattling the foundations of the floor. This one was hoarse and faltering, but forceful nonetheless. Hawkeye's head peeked out from behind a door, Havoc running up to him. "That way," he whispered, pointing down the hall.

And they ran. They had to find the room quickly, now that the memory of the general location was fresh in their mind. If this took any longer than necessary, they might as well give up. Near a curve in the hallway, they slowed, listening carefully to the sounds emanating from each room. It was another rough cry that gave the room away rather smaller noises.

FMAFMA

Roy burst through the doorway, his left hand primed to make fireworks. Upon entering, he froze, color leeching from his face. Hawkeye and Havoc ran in after him, gasps reaching his ears as their eyes fell on the scene that had been waiting for them.

Blood. Blood was everywhere, collecting on the floor in small puddles. It spattered the walls, tainted the air with its scent. A man stood near a wall, a whip flecked with scarlet clutched in his hand. Throwing them a sadistic grin, he brought it down, the snap of leather hitting flesh echoing around the small room. And that's when Roy's eyes fell on the boy curled on his side next to the wall, his head pressing against the brickwork.

Ed was all blood and bones, the starving edges pressing against skin that was clothed in nothing but scarlet for the most part. His eyes were scrunched shut, tear tracks carving through the grime on his cheeks. The normally golden hued hair was diluted with blood, turning a strange muddy color. A few strands clung to the gore spattered across the pale skin of the kid's face. The Colonel wanted to vomit, watching in paralyzing shock as the whip struck the boy's flesh. Ed didn't make a sound, just flinched harshly.

"ED!" he yelled, embarrassed only slightly by the amount of worry evident through his tone. To everyone's surprise, golden eyes cracked open at his cry, dazed with pain and muddled with confusion. Oh God, he was conscious. The thought sent a chill down his spine, queasiness clenching in his stomach. Pushing the feeling aside, he focused on all the blood. If it was all his… He didn't even want to think about it. Cracked lips mouthed his title, recognition lighting that half-dead gaze. The whip cracked down again, striking against the boy's mostly bare back. The eyes closed sharply, the skin around them crinkling together, his mouth opening in a mostly silent, hoarse cry. Roy's heart clenched, his teeth grinding together.

Anger roared in him, his fingers rubbing together in response. How dare these barbarians lay their hands on his subordinate! "ENOUGH!" he demanded before he even realized he'd decided to speak. The soldier jerked his head up, shocked that he'd spoken too. The black-haired man lifted his hand, poised to end the man's life, when the door slammed shut behind him. He jumped, lowering his arm slightly.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Colonel," a new voice, not one he recognized, advised slowly, smooth and calm. Without even looking, Mustang could recognize the quick, manipulative tone of a high ranking officer. "After all, you want the boy to live right? Any false moves from you and I end his life. You got that?" He froze, listening at the sounds of controlled footsteps as the man approached. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing it painfully. He didn't dare look back, keeping his gaze leveled at the wall opposite him.

"What do you want?" the Colonel whispered through numb lips. A laugh echoed through the room, melding with the sound of priming guns that were now leveled at his group. Shit. This wasn't good. At all. He stiffened at metal striking the floor, fully loaded guns landing by his feet. Havoc was swearing under his breath, but loudly enough for his superior officer to hear him. Mustang was sure that this situation brought back bad memories, though at least there wasn't an arm around the man's throat. Yet. Judging by Fullmetal's condition, these people (and he used the term loosely) were not opposed to inflicting severe damage on other people, despite age or gender. Another thought nearly stopped him cold. Hawkeye. Swallowing, he carefully cleaned all signs of fear from his expression, keeping his posture straight.

"What I want, Colonel Mustang." The addressed man decided that he didn't like the way that this high ranking officer said his name. "Is information, and, if we can get that far, maybe your cooperation. You are an alchemist, correct?" He nodded stiffly, the rough glove encompassing his hand crinkling and sparking as he clenched his fist. "Good. Already you're more cooperative than the runt. He refused to even tell me his name. And he told me that I had you to thank for his lack of respect to men of superior rank." Roy's lips twitched in minor amusement, imagining the things that must have flown from Ed's lips. If it was anything like the boy's reports, then it was probably sarcastic as hell. Havoc had absolutely no qualms about expressing his amusement, snorting loudly.

"Fullmetal always has been a lot to handle. You just have to know how to do so." The man starts to laugh, releasing Mustang's shoulder. Footsteps echoed around the tense room as he walked around to everybody's line of sight. Roy recognized the markings of a Brigadier General the moment his gaze raked over the newcomer's uniform and glanced at his face. The man was thin and freshly shaven, his greying hair combed back neatly. His eyes were a deceptive dark brown, gleaming with pleasure at the situation.

"Don't I know that, Colonel Mustang. After all, I've had the pleasure of spending a majority of my time with him after his capture. However, I've never been able to quite master how his head works, maybe you can help me gain his cooperation." Mustang's throat tightened to prevent any noise from escaping as the Brigadier General crouched down next to his subordinate, grabbing Ed's face harshly. They boy's eyes snapped open, fearful recognition flashing in his deep golden hue. His gaze slid from the person holding him to Roy, silently pleading for his commanding officer to put a stop to this in a way Roy'd never seen before from him.

"You still haven't answered my question, General, at least, not outright. What do you want from us?" The Cretan released the blond, glancing with disgust at the blood now staining his fingers.

"We require information on your Fuhrer, Mustang. It was information this runt was unwilling, or unable as he claimed, to provide." Without much thought, he slammed a polished boot into Ed's chest, slamming him against the wall. The alchemist choked, coughing harshly against the pain. Blood spilled from his lips, splattering onto the floor in front of him. Mustang's lips tightened, worry quickly replacing anger. "I want to know where he is, where he lives, and what he plans for our country. If you cannot provide such simple information, this little bastard will reap the consequences."

The Colonel remained silent, his gaze locked with Ed's. The kid's glazed over eyes were wide and panicked and, for someone who was used to seeing them so strong and determined, it physically pained him to see Ed in such a way. "So, Colonel. Will you release the information I know that you must have?" The black-haired man knew what his answer must be, bile splashing against the back of his throat at what the resulting consequences would be.

"I'm afraid I cannot, General. Information regarding our Fuhrer is always kept closely guarded and only those with the rank of Brigadier General may have access to it. As you know, I am only a Colonel and therefore am not privy to any information about Fuhrer Bradley." Though he was speaking to their captor, his eyes never left his injured subordinate. Had his lips twitched upward at his words? The tension in the room increased and one could almost feel the fury rising in the Brigadier General.

"Funny, Colonel. The runt gave a similar response, though not as eloquently worded as yours. Do you Amestrians train your recruits the same way?" The Cretan pulled something from his belt with deliberate slowness, allowing the screeching of metal on metal fill the small room. "Now, I'm going to ask you one more time, Mustang. Tell me what you know about the Fuhrer!" The man's voice was growing in volume, naked anger boiling plainly under his words.

"My response is the same." With an enraged roar, the Brigadier General moved quickly, the blade penetrating Ed with impressive force, sliding neatly into the spot just under the boy's ribcage. The blond let out a strangled cry, noticeable tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. Gold met onyx, pleading silently without thought for release from this pain. As the knife was ripped from his flesh, another tortured cry left his throat.

With a surprising strength, Mustang's anger returned, rising instantly from simple rage to an insane fury. It filled his being, his vision cloaking in a screen of scarlet. His hands shook, his face pale. Dark eyes narrowed dangerously, lips spreading to reveal his clenched teeth. Ed's eyes fell shut, the unfocused gaze now hidden behind pale and dirty eyelids. And that was all it took for Roy to snap. Literally.

The Brigadier General became the fuel for a miniature explosion, the man not even having the time to scream before he died. The flames reduced, a roasted body falling to the floor. With one more snap, he'd been reduced to a charcoal skeleton, a burnt ash smearing on the tile. Mustang paid the corpse no mind, turning on his heel to deal with the soldiers holding his men captive. They ran, fear evident on each of their faces. The heat of the remaining flames brushed against his skin as he wheeled back around, ignoring the sparks that passed in front of his face.

Rushing to Ed's side, he knelt down in the growing puddle of blood, carefully turning the boy onto his back. Oh, God... He drew his gaze over the injured form, color fading from his features. Both automail limbs were a complete disaster area, crushed and peeled apart.

Roy gently pulled Ed into his arms, his face pale and tight with worry. Taking another sweep of the young form, he quickly analyzed the boy's condition. His knee was twisted and swollen, looking awkward in the leather pants that the blond was far too fond of. The flesh arm was in similar shape, though the skin was torn along the break of his forearm, blood leaking sluggishly through the opening. And he was covered in the thick liquid, scarlet soaking his skin, causing his clothes and hair to plaster to the surface. Mustang was unsure of how to move Ed for to do it wrong would only cause more damage. The younger alchemist didn't move as Roy ghosted hands over him, remaining limp and prone on the hard floor. The older man cursed under his breath, finding more damage than anybody could quickly patch up. This was all his fault, as usual. He had taken far too long in finding the boy. "Dammit!" he swore, hands curling into tight fists. Someone came up behind him and couched, a soft whistle breezing by his ear.

"That knee does not look good," Havoc whispered. "We're going to have to move it carefully."

"We shouldn't move him at all," the Colonel muttered, his voice touched with worry. Ed made a soft, breathy noise, head shifting slightly. Mustang rested a hand on the boy's arm, withdrawing as he cringed away from the man's touch. Havoc snorted quietly behind him, though the sound lacked any real amusement.

"No," the blond agreed. "We really shouldn't. But beggars can't be choosers in a situation like this. Those bombs are gonna go off any min-" The floor shook as an explosion rocked the building, dust and debris scattering everywhere.

"Time's up!" Roy yelled, coughing out dust from the resulting haze. He glanced back at his 2nd lieutenant, scowling. "Is there anything to brace his knee?" The man shook his head, his blue eyes sharp and urgent.

"No time for that boss. We gotta move him now and hope for the best." The black-haired man nodded sharply, already moving to lift the boy. Looping his arms around Ed's shoulders and under his knees, he carefully lifted the blond to his chest. Roy had to hand it to the kid; he had one helluva pain threshold. After making sure that his cargo was steady, his onyx eyes lifted to his small group, landing first on Havoc and eventually coming to a rest on Hawkeye.

"Alright. Let's move! Group 2 should meet us on the way." As the Hawkeye followed Mustang obediently out the door, Havoc hesitated, blue eyes scanning the room once more. A flash of white in the darkness caught his attention, mostly concealed. Cautiously moving towards it, he curled his finger around his pistol's trigger, wary of what he might find. Boots splashing in the pools of blood scattered on the floor, he crouched down next to the source of the color. A small sheet of paper was sinking into a rather large puddle of gore, the red leeching up into the purity of white. Placing his gun back into its holster at his hip, he pulled the sopping paper from its confinement, pinching the corner with glove clad fingers.

The small segment of the sheet that was still white bore a mark that probably would have extended across the entire page had it not been corrupted. The mark appeared to be gibberish, but he figured that Mustang would want to see it later, when he wasn't so panicked. So he quickly, and carefully, folded up the paper and slid it into his pocket, straightening and running off to catch up with his fellow soldiers when he was done.

* * *

_DA: Well then, another chapter done. The rescue will also be extending to next chapter, obviously. Haha. Sorry it's not so exciting. I tried, but I'm not very clever with plans. I'm very blunt if you couldn't tell and so my version of a plan is busting in and blowing everything to hell. XD _

_Anyways, Welcome to all you new readers, I hope you've enjoyed and plan to stay for the remainder of this story. And for you returning readers, I know a few of you wanted me to update earlier, but if I did, I would throw off my updating schedule and then I wouldn't feel I would have to stick to my schedule anymore (not like I really do anyway but shush). _

_Well, I'm off to practice my makeup for my Winry cosplay! I just bought my wig and I'm SUPER excited for Connecticon this year! Hehe. If any of you are going, feel free to try to find me! I'd LOVE to meet some of my fans in person! But in the meantime, tell me what you think of this chapter and I'll see you all next week!_

_May your hearts stay strong,_

_DarkAngel555_


	9. Chapter 9

_DA: Well it's that time of week again! Hope you're all excited for the new chapter. I know I am. I have no witty conversational openings today, so let's just get right to the chapter. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own FMA... or do I? Just kidding._

_DA: Usual warnings apply, probably. Enjoy!_

* * *

Darkness to Dawn

Chapter 9

When Ed woke, something had definitely changed about his surroundings from when he had passed out. Something about the way the air around him smelled. There was no stale blood and sweat, just crisp, clean oxygen. And he was being jostled, strong arms roped around his shoulders and knees. Each movement sent a spike of fresh pain through his body, bringing an unconscious moan from his lips. "Just hang on Ed," a voice whispered urgently to him from above. He recognized the voice, if only vaguely. His head ached too much for him to grasp something so simple as recognition, but he knew that if he gave it time, he'd know. Already the fuzzy memories from before were becoming clearer, though the images of blurry faces didn't help much either. "We're almost out." The blond cracked his eyes open, nearly wincing at the bright flashes of light that pierced his corneas. A dark-haired man hovered above him, his dark eyes directed to the way they were traveling rather than the person in his arms.

"Colonel..." he murmured through chapped lips, voice hoarse. At the barely audible word, those dark eyes instantly snapped down to him, concern drawing harsh lines between his eyebrows.

"Ed, you with me?" Through slitted eyes, he could see glimpses of the battle raging on around them. Gunfire peppered around them, the culprits soon shot themselves. Why wasn't Mustang fighting himself? He was a State Alchemist and therefore one of the more qualified fighters in the group.

"Why 'rn't you f'ghtin'?" His tongue was thick in his mouth, filling up more than it should. The Colonel looked relieved, if only slightly, a small smile feathering his lips.

"Someone needed to carry you out. Clearly though, if you're coherent enough to worry that I'm not fighting, you can walk yourself." It was a weak joke, they both knew it. A nearby explosion caused Mustang to stumble, severely jostling the young form in his arms. Ed moaned at the agony that followed, eyes squeezing shut. "Sorry... Lost my footing for a second. You alright?" He cracked his eyes open to glare at his superior, feeling his blond hair sticking to the blood wetting his face. Mustang winced in sympathy, the skin around his eyes tightening in worry. "Bad question." Surveying the area around them, he scowled, apparently not pleased with their current situation. Finally, he sighed. "Just bear with me for a little while, Ed. I'll get you out of this." Then they were off again, and Ed's world blackened around the edges, his mind floating in a hazy world.

A blond woman ran beside them, her head peeking over Mustang's shoulder to sneak a glance at Ed. "Is he conscious?" she questioned in a hurried whisper, shifting so she could quickly fire her gun at a possible enemy. He risked a glance down at the boy, eyes instantly flashing up to the hallway they were currently sprinting through.

"He fades in and out. All this moving isn't exactly good for him in his condition," he relayed, sounding breathless. His arms were straining with the boy's weight, which was surprisingly large for a child so small. "He was worrying about me a few minutes ago, but I think he's out again."

"Don't count me out yet, bastard," Ed murmured, body tensing at the subtle vibration that traveled up to him. Not like he'd admit it, but he wanted nothing more than to bury his face into the Colonel's stained jacket and sob in agony. He held strong though, not all that comfortable with all this attention focused onto him. "And I wasn't w'rryin'. Just curious. You always try to fight, even when useless." Roy rolled his eyes, nearly growling at the blond. Yet another explosion rocked the ground, the following pain sending the younger alchemist reeling. Seeing his reaction, the black-haired man frowned, desiring with all his heart to yell at his men, or whoever was setting off these damned explosions (why the hell did he come up with that idea again?), to fucking cool it. There was one bright side; they could see the exit, the glow of real sunlight peeking from the cracks around the door at the end of the hall. But with a severely wounded Fullmetal, they could only go so fast without the risk of causing him pain and even more damage than had already been done. "Go as fast as you need. Don't worry about me. I can take it," the boy lied smoothly, voice a harsh whisper. He understood the situation and realized why they were hesitating, his mind, even hindered, putting the reasoning together. The pair looked unsure as the teen leveled a stern but unfocused gaze at them. Eventually, Mustang sighed and nodded. He glanced back at the Lieutenant, watching the conflict in her eyes.

"You'll have my back?" She raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. Her eyes seemed to settle as her hand flashed up to shoot yet another man, her mouth a determined slash across her face. Ed noticed vaguely (that seemed to be happening a lot lately) that though her hair was matted with sweat and other types of bodily fluids, quite similar to his own, the color was high in her face as it always seemed to be in the middle of a firefight. Roy just seemed to notice as well, a small smile lifting his face, marking it with an unidentifiable emotion.

"Of course, sir," she responded, calmly pulling out another handgun. He shook his head, mouth quirking into a smirk. Where she hid all of her firearms, he didn't want to know. Checking on his cargo one last time, he nodded and started to run, trying to hold his arms as still as possible. It wasn't working. Muffled cries and pained winces assaulted his ears as they sped down the hallway, each urging the Colonel to move faster. He was almost glad when the weakly writhing form in his arms gave in and went completely limp, the blond head lolling against his shoulder.

They burst outdoors, someone jamming their rifle under the handle so it couldn't be opened easily. The bright dawn sunlight was glinting out from between the trees, shining like a searchlight to point them in the right direction. They kept running.

Mustang took a deep breath and stopped once they were deep enough into the forest covering, glancing behind him. Sweat trickled down his face, tracing lines through the dust and grime. This was far enough. "Ok, names and injuries people," he ordered briskly, dark eyes still scanning the area for its security.

"Havoc, I'm a little bruised, but alright."

"Falman, singed but fine."

"Breda, left arm's burned. Who's brilliant idea was it to set off those bombs..." The last part was muttered, the man clearly annoyed. Once again, Mustang reminded himself involuntarily that it was his idea, feeling slightly guilty. But that, he shook off quickly.

"Fuery, possibly concussed, but not badly."

"Hawkeye, I'm fine." He blew out a sigh of relief and lowered himself slowly to the ground, carefully draping Ed across his lap. Even unconscious, the teen's face was etched with pain and paler than a ghost. The worry that had formed in a loose ball in his gut tightened, earlier relief at his team's relative safety gone.

"Havoc, I need you with me. The rest of you secure the area." With a single, "yes sir," they were all obediently off, the blond soldier making his way slowly over to his superior. "You have medical experience, am I right Havoc?" Havoc nodded dumbly, his gaze trained on the young form in Mustang's arms. "Please, help him as best you can. We shouldn't leave until we know what we're dealing with." At the desperation in the dark-haired man's voice, Havoc looked up curiously, but his attention soon returned to Ed, who stirred weakly with a low moan.

With steady fingers, he softly prodded at the boy, mentally cataloging each injury he found. His scowl deepened, blood soaking his fingers as they accidentally dug into the deep slice along the boy's side. And all the color left his face as the already slick fingers bumped into a thick rod, embedded in the boy's left thigh. When he was done, he looked up at the Colonel and sighed, running his hand through his hair, paying no mind at the red streaks his fingers left in their wake. "It's not good. He's losing blood too fast and with him being as tiny as he is, that could become a real problem. Doesn't look like anything vital was hit, thankfully, but there are isolated spots of internal bleeding we should keep an eye on," he quickly summarized about the worst of the damage, gauging the worry in his boss's face. His hand snaked out and caught Ed's wrist, feeling around for his pulse. "Skin's cold and clammy and pulse is fast and thready at best. He might be going into shock if he isn't already."

Edward's eyelids twitched, groaning slightly. "'m not tiny..." he managed, voice no more than a breathy whisper. Roy smiled slightly, relieved at the protest, even weak. The boy opened his eyes slightly, the barest amount of glazed gold peeking through the slits. "You ok?" Mustang's eyebrows furrowed slightly at the question before he realized it wasn't directed at him. He glanced up at his subordinate, taking in his appearance. Havoc looked tired, bruises darkening the skin of his face where stray rocks had struck him. Blood dyed his hair in finger-sized lines, a stark contrast from the usual blond. His blue eyes were a little startled at the question, mouth opening slightly in shock. But even that couldn't hide the worry lines creasing the skin on his forehead.

"Me? Yea, I'm a little bruised, but fine. You should worry more about yourself, chief." Ed looked skeptical, gaze drifting up to the stains in his hair. Havoc rolled his eyes and glanced around, noticing that everyone was starting to return. "But enough about that. Did anybody think to pack bandages?" Colonel Mustang's eyes widened a fraction, temporarily horrified at his own failing, but the expression was gone almost instantly. Falman saved them all when he pulled a roll of white linen from his bag as well as a plain white cloth to dab the injuries free of blood. The blond soldier smiled gratefully, taking the supplies. "Colonel. I'm gonna need your help here." The dark-haired man nodded, tightening his hold on the younger alchemist as Havoc took hold of the ripped clothing.

"Hey, what're you doing?" Ed yelped weakly, clearly surprised by this development. He struggled halfheartedly, even though the tattered remains of his clothing barely covered his body. After getting elbowed in the gut with an automail arm, Mustang grabbed the arm and yanked it down to restrain it. The boy went grey at the treatment, a strangled gasp leaving his throat. "Ow! Shit, ow! Don't touch the automail!" Roy let go, eyes wide and watching as Ed took shuddering breaths to gain control of himself. Finally, he looked up, pallor gaining some semblance of color, a small smile fluttering across his face. "Sorry. The ports are a bit sensitive right now."

They finished removing his shirt in silence, Ed hissing slightly in pain when either of his arms were jostled. Havoc threw the scraps of ruined cloth aside and shook his head as his superior went to remove the alchemist's tight leather pants. "They won't come off. Believe me." He leaned in closer to inspect the bloody wound on the teen's side as Mustang's eyebrows furrowed, his dark eyes sliding to find the reason why. It was easily found. He gasped, fingers prodding the rod in his subordinate's leg.

"How about you don't touch that either, bastard?" Ed moaned, eyes squeezing shut as pain tilted his world slightly. The hand retreated instantly, a hard, worried look on the man's face.

"Alright. I'm ready. Colonel, hold him up. Chief, this is going to hurt. A lot." He nodded, wincing slightly as the Colonel's hands gently lifted him upright. The moment Havoc's hands pressed down on his side, his vision flashed white. He bit his lip to keep from screaming, the pressure remaining constant. Spots of black began to speckle the white, creating an abstract painting where his sight used to be. Agony sliced through his being, loosening his hold on consciousness, and everything faded to a peaceful black.

Mustang braced the now limp form more fully against his body, the boy's head reclining back against his shoulder. "Thank God," he murmured, sighing gently. Havoc looked up, quirking an eyebrow.

"Thought you didn't believe, boss," he stated, sounding amused. He finished wrapping the bandages around Ed's torso, effectively treating two serious injuries. Mustang snorted slightly, laying the boy down again.

"Even I have my moments of belief. They're just infrequent."

FMAFMA

Mustang sat in the waiting room, trying his hardest not to look at the stark white walls. It was the one thing he hated about hospitals, the blandness that seemed to suck the color and life from everything. He could feel it tugging at him already, bleaching him of personality and causing his eyelids to droop.

A cup of coffee was thrust in front of him, steam curling off the rim. He took it with a grateful sigh, flashing a weak grin at his lieutenant. "Still no word?" she asked, lowering herself into the seat next to him. He shook his head, sipping absently at the bitter liquid. "He'll be alright, sir. You know how he is."

"But I'll be damned if he doesn't worry the hell out of me first," he muttered almost disdainfully. His dark eyes kept scanning the immediate area for any signs of change, a doctor, a nurse, anything. He was more worried than he'd readily admit, but it was justified. The kid had been half a second from bleeding out when they'd traipsed their collective asses into the hospital. He'd lost count of how many times they'd had to layer bandages over the existing ones in an attempt to keep Ed's blood in his body. Havoc had already been ordered to go home and rest, which he had done but only after he'd made Roy promise to call him when they heard any news.

"Did you call Alphonse?" The quiet question dragged him from his daze, a sense of dread filling him. His eyes widened and he took a drink of coffee to smother his moan.

"Shit. I hadn't even thought of that..." Sighing, he gave his coffee to Riza and hauled himself out of the uncomfortable plastic chair. "I'll be back soon."

"You might want to call the Rockbells while you're at it, sir." He whirled around to glare at her, scowling.

"This isn't a funeral. I don't think I need to call the entire world." The blond regarded him calmly, though if he looked carefully, a small, mostly imperceptible smile was upon her lips.

"They are his automail engineers, sir." All his anger fled him, the scowl dropping from his features.

"Oh..." He turned quickly so she couldn't see the mild blush that brushed his cheeks and walked out, hiding his embarrassment with a confident stride.

He was still on the phone when Hawkeye walked over several minutes later, a man in green scrubs following closely behind. Listening to Alphonse squawking worriedly, he swallowed, holding a finger up to the newcomers. "I don't know, Al. The doctor just showed so I'll talk to you when you get to the hospital." He placed the phone on its cradle and, taking a deep breath to calm himself, turned towards the doctor. The man was middle aged, graying hair meshing with dark brown. A surgical mask hung loosely around his neck, speckled with red. The mint green scrubs were also splotched with scarlet, though Mustang tried not to think about were that had come from. "Well, doctor?"

"Colonel Mustang, correct?" the doctor asked, nodding at the affirmative. "It was stop and go for a little while there, but Mr. Elric's condition is stable." Mustang let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, the tight ball of anxiety in his gut relaxing. "We removed his automail to help his recovery. You called his engineer, am I right?" He nodded again, paying close attention to the words. "Good. I'll need his help with something. The rod in his leg seems to be intertwined with the wires of the port and it could be detrimental if I were to try and remove it without the assistance of a skilled automail engineer." The doctor paused, glancing at both of his listeners. "Would you like to see him?"

FMAFMA

The room smelt of antiseptic, thinly masking the thick, metallic stench of blood. The doctor gave the usual warnings - don't make too much noise, he needs his rest - and left, muttering about Ed's age. Roy walked inside the white-walled room, Hawkeye stationed just at his back. A gentle, but steady beeping filled the room with sound, drawing attention to the bed. Fullmetal looked small without his automail, something he'd probably noticed before, but never truly thought about. Blankets were pulled up under his arm, seeming to suck the teen into the bed. Golden hair was splayed against the white pillow, let out from its usual constraint for once.

His face was a mess of bruises, the colors alternating from red to purple to black. Seven neat stitches lined the bottom of his left eye, holding the cut together. Hand prints encircled his neck in the form of contusions, each vivid against the practically colorless skin. Crisp bandages peeked out from beneath the hospital garb, but it was impossible to determine the extent of the damage within the layers. Ed's forearm bore a pristine cast, reaching up to just before his elbow, where an IV was attached.

Mustang sat heavily in the chair next to the bed, feeling numb. Sure, he'd rescued the boy, but he had no idea how much damage his subordinate had managed to accumulate. The majority of the injuries had been hidden by blood and grime. Lacing fingers through his hair, Roy lowered his head into his hands. God, he was tired.

A hand dropped onto his shoulder, squeezing it gently. He looked up and smiled tiredly at Riza, letting out a frustrated sigh as he sat back. "Al's on his way. Given the fact that he's a tireless suite of armor, I give him ten minutes until he's here," he informed her, though his eyes remained trained on the bed. "The Rockbell's will probably be here in the morning. They're taking the earliest train to Central."

"I'll arrange a transport to meet them at the station, sir," she responded, her hand remaining in contact with him. "Do you want me to wait for Alphonse in the lobby?" He nodded, rubbing angrily at his eyes as if the motion would drive his exhaustion away. "Alright. I'll be back shortly." Squeezing his shoulder one last time, she returned his coffee to his hands and left.

"Thank you, Riza." His tone was soft, so quiet the blond barely caught it as she passed through the door. Pausing, she turned back to glance at the man, her brown eyes soft.

"Don't mention it, sir." He smiled into his cup, dark eyes watching the woman as she retreated down the hallway. She always knew what he needed, even when he himself didn't know.

His gaze shifted back to the injured teen, his grin dropping from his face, the worry lines deepening. If only he'd fought the Fuhrer more, then maybe Ed wouldn't have gotten hurt. But Bradley had insisted on sending the two alchemists into an active warzone with limited backup and when the Fuhrer insists, no one can question him. Mustang had tried, only to fail. So he had done the next best thing: gathered his most trusted men. But even that had failed.

Staring at the remains of the brown liquid, the dark-haired man's conscience churned with guilt. Dragging his palm across his forehead, he directed his eyes at the ceiling. The Colonel listened intently to the sharp, but constant beeping, not noticing as his eyelids began to descend.

* * *

_DA: Damn, I end a lot of chapters with someone passing out... Hehe. But hey, it works. I love exhausted Mustang. He's my favorite... though he enjoys glaring at me inside my head if I leave him as exhausted for an extended period of time. Yep, I'm kinda insane but aren't all writers?_

_Anyways, don't worry if it looks like the story's ending soon. There's still quite a few plot points I have yet to close. Some of them are far more obvious than others. But I'll just leave you with that. After all, it wouldn't do to give too much away. _

_Tell me what you thought of this chapter! See you all next week!_

_May your hearts stay strong,_

_DarkAngel555_


	10. Chapter 10

_DA: Heya! You all know what time of week it is! NEW CHAPTER TIME! Sorry, I just had a coffee so now I'm super hyper! But I know you all don't wanna listen to me ramble so I'll just do all my talking at the end. This chapter's a long one so strap yourselves in. (Though it's not all that exciting. Just kinda fluffy)_

_Disclaimer: I'm running out of witty ways to explain how I DON'T OWN FMA!_

_DA: Well enjoy! As usual, swearing and probably some gore. I dunno, depends really._

* * *

Darkness to Dawn

Chapter 10

Mustang stared Alphonse down, once again finding himself in the uncomfortable chairs of the waiting room. The Rockbell's must have taken an obnoxiously early train because it couldn't have been later than six when someone shook him awake, telling him they were prepping Ed for surgery. And so here he was, enduring the piercing gaze of one concerned brother. It was a little unnerving to say the least when twin dots of red watched him so carefully, as if expecting him to do something spectacular. "When did you show up again?" he asked, head still muddled with sleep.

"I already told you, Colonel," the suit of armor responded, exasperated. "Lieutenant Hawkeye said that you'd been in the room for about ten minutes when I arrived. You were asleep."

"And there were no changes?" Roy nearly winced at the hopeful note in his tone. Metal clanked as they boy shook his head, those bright eyes dimming slightly.

"No." His voice lowered, the irritation all but gone. "He slept all night too." If it had been any other situation, the Colonel would have yelled in protest at the comparison of him and Ed. He remained silent however, finding the way his hands interwove in his lap very interesting. His clothes were sleep rumpled, though how he had managed to mess up his clothing up while in a chair was beyond him, and his hair was scruffier than normal, but his body was tight with worry. It felt the same whenever one of his subordinates landed in the hospital, only with Ed, it was a thousand times worse. "Hey, he'll be ok, Colonel..." The dark-haired man pushed the bubble of hysterical laughter back down his throat, working to erase all signs of stress from his features. It always astounded him how accurate Alphonse was at reading people.

"Yea, I know, Al." Silence fell over them, neither having anything else to say. A door burst open nearby, an exhausted but irate blond storming in.

"Where is he?!" she screamed, scowling harshly at them. "I swear I'm gonna kill him."

"Winry!" Alphonse exclaimed, sounding surprised. She rounded on him, blue eyes flashing with anger.

"Alphonse! What did your dumbass brother do to my automail this time?!" Winry was fuming, a vein pulsing in her forehead. At the mention of automail, Mustang paled slightly.

"_Sorry. The ports are a bit sensitive..."_

Oblivious to the Colonel's distress, she kept going. "The moment we stepped on the hospital grounds, the doctors ran off with Granny and left me all alone. Can someone please explain to me what the hell Ed got his dumb ass into this time?" Mustang sighed, leveling his dark gaze on the girl.

"You might want to sit down miss," he said, lips tight.

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Winry sat down harshly when he finished, her face practically bloodless. "T-tortured?" she questioned, voice an octave higher with a mix of distress and absolute horror. Al stood behind her, placing a comforting hand on her back as she pitched forwards, pressing her face into her hands. "Ed...was tortured?" Tears were spilling from her crystal blue eyes, dripping from between her fingers and onto the clean tile floor. Mustang nodded, his face grave.

"Your grandmother is in the surgery right now to assist in removing a rod from his thigh that had somehow gotten tangled with the wires of his thigh port. However, there is more. I believe that someone had been meddling further with the ports, as well. When we are allowed back in the room, you should probably look at them." Perhaps he was being a bit unsympathetic towards the girl, but she needed to understand the situation fully and remedy it before it could get worse. And knowing Ed, it probably would get worse if left unchecked.

"Yeah," she agreed, breathless. Her previous anger was all but forgotten, apparent by the watery but vacant gaze that was visible through the cracks between her fingers. She swallowed harshly and glanced back up at the dark-haired man, her eyes gleaming with worry. "Will he be alright?" Her voice was quiet and strained, a slight hard edge betraying the concern which she held for her childhood friend. Mouth twitching into a slight grin, he nodded.

"Yea, he's gonna be just fine." As the words left his mouth, something deep within him started burning sickeningly. He kept the grin on his face, hiding his turmoil. Riza shot him a look, her eyebrows furrowed and a slight scowl painted across her lips. She could tell; she could always tell, but, as usual, remained silent.

Winry sighed in relief, her body shuddering as if it was a sob. "Well, that's good. I'd hate to think that he wouldn't be able to bounce back from this." The burning sensation increased, Roy's facade slipping. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was wrong. Really wrong. He wanted to say something comforting, but his head wouldn't string words together without making them sound ominous. As per always, his lieutenant saved his ass. He really needed to give her a pay raise...

"He's in his last serious procedure right now, so he'll be back on his feet in no time," she reassured, squatting down so her face was in line with Winry's. The girl chuckled weakly, without humor. Something dark flickered in her blue irises.

"Last serious procedure? It seems you guys forgot about the automail reattachment." Both Colonel and Lieutenant sucked in a shocked breath, trading looks of equal astonishment. "Automail attachment is no simple procedure It doesn't use anesthetic and it's been known to have drastic consequences for those patients who have it done while in critical condition." She didn't need to say the last part, but it echoed in all their minds: _Like Ed is..._"It has knocked Ed on his ass for up to a day when perfectly healthy. I-I don't know what could happen now..." Riza reached out and pulled the nearly hysterical girl into a tight hug, her chestnut eyes soft and motherly.

"This is Ed we're talking about. He's gonna be fine." The murmurs seemed to calm the teen, her body relaxing ever so slightly into the hug. Alphonse's hand remained on her back, stroking it gently. The sight almost caused Mustang to smile despite himself. But even the comforting scene couldn't ease the dread that curled and thrashed within him.

FMAFMA

"Brother?" Al questioned, piercing the dark fog clouding Ed's mind. "Brother, are you awake?" He wanted to snap at the younger boy for disturbing him. Of course he was awake. How could anyone sleep with such a racket? Al must have let in an entire circus for the sole purpose of waking him.

"Fullmetal, now's not the time to pretend that you're sleeping," another voice supplied, stirring his memories. Mustang. Great. What the hell was that bastard doing here? And why was he so uncomfortable?

Something cold and smooth crossed over his upper lip, stale, rubbery air puffing into his nose. His flesh arm felt heavy and confined and the rest of his body was tight, his breathing restricted. Well, fuck. He was in the hospital. "Ed, enough. We can see your eyes twitching." There was a certain strain to Mustang's tone that wasn't normal, filling it with concern and desperation.

Oh. _Oh_. Warzone. Captured. Pain. As the thought raced through his mind, his limbs started throbbing dully, diluted by drugs most likely. A low moan was drawn from his throat, eyes blinking open. Two figures hung over him, one large and bulky and the other leaner. Their faces were inches from his own, red and dark eyes scanning his gold. He yelped, trying to force himself further into the pillows to put some distance between him and them. "What the hell guys?!" he tried to yell but it came out as a painful croak. The hard look in Mustang's eyes eased and he sat back, a slight smile playing on his lips. Alphonse, however, kept his close proximity and twined his strong arms around his brother, hugging him fiercely. Ed choked on a groan, feeling every injury on his body complaining at the strain.

"Brother!" the younger boy cried, voice thick with tears in a way that always made Ed's chest tight with guilt. "You're ok!"

"Al," Ed coughed, voice still weak. "Let me go... You're...hurting me..." The pressure lessened instantly and he fell back onto the bed, willing the multicolored dots out of his vision. Al backed off, somehow managing to look sheepish.

"There are many ways to describe Fullmetal's condition," Mustang commented dryly. "But I highly doubt 'ok' is one of them." Ed responded with a roll of his eyes and a slight shake of his head, discovering that any movement, no matter how small, caused pain. Quickly sweeping a critical gaze over his commanding officer, he analyzed the man's condition.

"Speak for yourself, bastard. You seem to be a few hours away from your own hospital bed. A couple of sleepless nights too much for you in your old age?" Mustang's eyes instantly narrowed, a sharp glare focused on the injured alchemist.

"I'm sorry, but I wasn't aware that they gave full-sized hospital beds to a person of your stature." It was with satisfied relief that he watched Ed's eyebrow twitch, taking no time at all to pick up on the height jab. The Colonel, a smile still secured on his lips, gleefully counted the moments until the inevitable explosion.

"WHO'RE YOU CALLING SO TINY HE NEEDS TO BE PUT IN THE CHILDREN'S WARD?!" Ed must have misunderstood the inflections in Mustang's voice earlier, because he was a bastard. No question about it. His chest complained loudly at the volume and force of his rant, sharp pains poking at him each time he breathed. Al, being the mother hen he was, noticed instantly.

"Brother, you shouldn't yell. You'll irritate your injuries," he fretted, a leather hand moving to touch the boy, to placate him. Nobody missed Ed's flinch, including the alchemist himself. The younger boy froze and backed slowly off, the red glow of his eyes sharpening with worry.

The blond glanced a both of his visitors, eyes slightly wide, before averting his gaze to the empty spot where a leg should have been. Shit. Shit. Shit! That was his brother, dammit. Not some Cretan asshole. He was no longer in that fucking cell. No one would hurt him now. Not with blades, or whips, or fists. No more days spent in mind-blowing agony... And shit, he was panicking.

A cool hand touched his shoulder, a steady voice advising him to breathe. He tried, tried to force air in and out of his body as calmly as possible, but the images of that damned prison kept racing through his mind, unedited and unstoppable. A whimpering sound reached his ears, louder than the voice pleading for him to calm down. He couldn't; he just fucking couldn't!

Colors blurred together, pain suddenly jumping to the front of his mind in response to each vivid memory. "Stop it!" he yelled, wincing internally as he realized he actually spoke. "Please... Stop..." Suddenly, arms encircled him, warm and comforting rather than the harsh and cruel flesh he was expecting. Ed stiffened, unused to humane contact, but slowly relaxed into the embrace, pressing his face into the offered shoulder.

"It's ok, Ed," the voice murmured, deep and masculine, as the teen eased out from the throes of panic. "You're safe. No one will hurt you here." A hand rubbed his back, attempting to be comforting to the trembling teen. As Ed swallowed back a sob, the full implication of what just happened almost sent him into another panic attack. He had just fallen apart... In front of his brother... And the Colonel... Shit.

He picked himself out from the embrace, wanting nothing more than to hide himself in an alchemically produced hole. Golden eyes were moist and with his only hand encased in plaster, he could do nothing about it. Swallowing, he looked up, peeking at his audience through the cover of his blond hair. Mustang's dark eyes were surprisingly soft and tender; Al was shaking, metal bits of his armor clanging together quietly, like a wind-chime. Ed averted his gaze again, allowing his hair to shadow his eyes.

Where had that attack even come from? He couldn't just panic like that, it went against his image, which was now dangling precariously because of his actions. Dammit, things were getting complicated. Might as well apologize for making them go through that. He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes directed down. "I'm so-" Two voices cut him off before he could even finish his apology, both sounding rather angry at his attempt.

"Don't you even think about it, Fullmetal," Mustang threatened in a hushed whisper, glaring at the boy even though he knew that Ed wasn't even looking at either of them. "Everyone is allowed to have a moment of weakness, especially after they've been through something you just got out of." That got some reaction from Ed. He snapped his head up, lips tilted down into a scowl. His golden eyes were still slightly watery (even though that wasn't his fault) and narrowed dangerously at his commanding officer. And, though no matter how hard he tried to hide it, lines of pain were etched into his countenance, creasing his brow and lining the edges of his face. He opened his mouth to argue his point, but was once again cut off before a sound could leave his aggravated throat.

"Brother," Al said, his tone a mix of a trembling, fearful whisper, and annoyed patience. The trembling part caused remorse to well within the older brother, having heard that shake several times before. "It's ok. I know it wasn't my fault and it definitely wasn't yours. Stop feeling like you have to apologize for every little thing."

"But I flinched away from you…" Ed murmured, his gaze once again leveled at the sheets of his bed. Al, who spent a good minute measuring the strength of the bed, lowered himself carefully onto the mattress. The structure creaked and groaned under the large weight, but held, thankfully.

"And that was my fault. I probably shouldn't have reached for you while I was at the corner of your vision. Brought back some bad memories…" The tinny voice echoed around the bland hospital room, covering the incessant beeping that once filled the air with sound. As it faded, that annoying noise was the only thing that could be heard while the two brothers stared one another down, one's red eyes were impossibly compassionate while the other's golden hue was darkened with both guilt and self-loathing. "But," the suit of armor cut into the oppressive lack of dialogue, hard with determination. "That's not a mistake I'm going to make again."

"Al…" Ed whispered. And he was once again interrupted, but this time by a physical interaction. Al's metal arms wrapped lovingly around the alchemist's injured form, tight, but not enough to hurt the teen.

"You don't always have to be so strong. Let us carry the burden for you for once." Tears gathered in the underside of Ed's eyes, creating a thin film that threatened to encompass his entire field of vision in a waterlogged blur if it grew any farther. He opened his mouth and closed it, mind stumped as to what to say. So instead, he curled closer to his brother, resting his forehead on the cool, flat piece of metal that was his brother's shoulder. If tears leaked onto the plate, trickling slowly into the crevices in the armor, neither said anything.

With one last tight squeeze, drawing a muffled wince from the blond, Al lowered Ed back onto the bed, pulling back at the pained hiss as the teen shifted to a more comfortable condition. "Brother?" he questioned quietly.

"'m ok, Al," Ed reassured, small grin flashing across his lips. The younger boy's red eyes softened, the boy seeming pleased at the response, and he got off the bed, the mattress rising to its original shape. Roy was smiling softly at the scene and he sat back, once again content that everything would be alright. And again, that strange feeling crept up his spine, shivers racking his form.

"Knock knock," a familiar voice said from the doorway, bringing attention to the entrance. Havoc was leaning in the doorway, a sarcastic smirk playing across his mouth. "Wasn't aware you were awake boss." The facial expression said otherwise, sardonic and smug to the definition. Ed's cheeks flamed at the thought that the man might have been there for his embarrassing breakdown. "Brought some friends with me," he said as he stepped into the room, jerking a thumb behind him. All the blood in the blond's severely anemic body flooded to his cheeks, dusting it a dark pink, as the entirety of Mustang's troop, Armstrong included, followed the Lieutenant.

The moment Armstrong ducked his bald head through the door, all the color that had gathered in his face drained away. The man's blue eyes took literally no time to lock onto the blond teen's injured form, tears beading in the corners of his eyes. Ed swallowed as he watched the air begin to sparkle around the major's head, already cowering from the oncoming scene.

"Edward Elric!" the large man bellowed, the pink sparkles flashing brighter around the emotional face. "I admire your bravery in the face of this adversity!" His shirt vanished, Armstrong flexing his now bare muscles in its absence. "For it takes a true soldier to survive the trial that you just faced. I admire such strength in one so young. Allow me to show my gratitude!" He approached the bed with his arms wide open, surprisingly agile for his large size.

They almost realized Armstrong's intentions too late, the massive arms moving to encircle the severely wounded boy. Roy dived, seizing an arm, smirking as Havoc grabbed the other. In the end it took the entire group, including Alphonse, to restrain the overly affectionate giant. The Colonel was snickering as he sat back down, amused by the antics of the major. Hawkeye, back from a day at the office, took her place at his back, her face struggling to keep her amusement off it. Breda was full on laughing, his face bright red as he doubled over with force of his roaring guffaws. Fuery grinned, watching as his fellow soldiers lost themselves to delectation, with the exception of Falman, who never seemed to smile, though his eyes were twinkling with mirth. Havoc shook his head, chuckling slightly, at the sight of Armstrong, the large man standing with crossed arms in the corner he had been wrestled into, trying his best not to look sheepish. Even Ed was smiling, though the expression pulled on the healing cuts on his face.

"So, how're you feeling, chief?" Havoc asked, bringing Ed's golden gaze to him. The alchemist's expression fell slightly, though the bags under his eyes told his story better than any words would have. The pain creasing his face wasn't quite covered by the medication fed to him intravenously, a testament to just how badly he'd been hurt. At least his color was closer to normal than before, the grey giving way to a subtle peach.

"I'm fine, Havoc," he said, the hoarse tone of his voice not exactly proving his point. The blond man raised an eyebrow, skepticism written on his face. But he said nothing, understanding the reasoning behind the boy's denial of his condition.

"I'm glad you're alright Edward," Hawkeye said, her face taking on a maternal-like expression. "We were all very worried to hear that you'd been taken prisoner." Her chestnut eyes drifting towards her commanding officer, watching as his shoulders tensed at her words. Ed's expression turned stony, but thawed soon after, though a bit more forced than before.

"It wasn't anything I couldn't handle." Nobody missed the leather gauntlet moving to rest on Ed's thigh, right above a thick bandage wrapped around his knee. He opened his mouth to continue, but a loud shriek cut him off.

"Edward!" a girl screamed and Ed's mouth froze open, a look of horror lighting his gold eyes. Winry stormed into the room, her expression murderous. Falman, who had been standing by the door, inched away, appearing fearful. The teen's eyes scanned her, noting with relief that her trademark wrench was nowhere in sight. "What the hell did you do to yourself this time?! I told you to be careful you dumbass! Not willingly give yourself away! How freaking stupid can you get!" Ed relaxed slightly, sensing that her anger was just a guise. Tears peaked out from the corners of her blue eyes, trembling precariously but not yet heavy enough to fall down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry Winry..." he whispered, catching her eyes quickly before she hid them under her bangs. She walked up to his bed, hands clenched into shaking fists at her side.

"Don't apologize," she responded quietly, her voice high and quivering. The mechanic glanced up at Ed, revealing her leaking eyes. "J-just don't do it again." He smiled at her, the genuineness of it shocking a majority of the people in the room. Winry lost her composure, flinging her arms around her childhood friend's and sobbing into the green hospital garb on his chest. Ed yelped, clearly surprised, but recovered quickly and wrapped his only arm awkwardly around her, a small smile gracing his face. Roy and Al shared a look over their heads as Edward whispered comforting words to his best friend.

FMAFMA

"Alright mister," Winry said, hands planted on her hips. Her automail bag was slung over her shoulder, years of working up muscle preventing its weight from throwing her off balance. "If you're well enough to bitch and complain, you're well enough for me to attach your new arm and leg." Ed, who had been glaring at his brother (that tattle tale) paled slightly, scowling at the girl. He was at normal color again after a few days of competing with the shade of his bedsheets, something that relieved them all to no end. The bandages all remained however and he'd had another surgery on his knee to set a tendon that wasn't attaching correctly. And even though the doctors had him on a strict high calorie diet, he was still unnaturally thin for a boy his age and size, his skin stretched like paper over his bones. At his silence, Winry smirked, blue eyes flashing deviously. "If you're not ready, I can always wait another week..."

"No!" he snapped, his golden eyes flinty with anger. "I'm fine. Just attach the damn automail." Her expression, bright with amusement, faded slightly as his words. One thing Ed hated more than admitting his weakness was appearing weak, an averse effect of being without automail. Though, if he stopped being so reckless, he wouldn't have to deal with this so often, but this was Ed. Him and reckless were practically synonymous. Ed's definition of fine also varied from the rest of the world's, obviously, as he could barely move without wincing in his current condition. Even so, she couldn't leave him feeling vulnerable, even though she had half a mind not to give him his leg. With two functioning legs, he might make an escape attempt.

As she set the bag down on the bed, Al made a worried noise, metal sections clanging together as he shifted. Winry sighed, slightly annoyed, the air escaping from her nose, and brushed her hair behind her shoulders. Flipping open the latches on the case, she threw it open without care, lost in her own thoughts. Surely she wasn't making the wrong decision in giving him back his mobility. He wouldn't lie to her if he wasn't ready, would he? It took her a few moments to realize that someone was speaking to her. "Win? You alright?" She looked up, finding Ed's golden gaze trained on her rather than flicking between her and his brother. Her cheeks reddened unconsciously.

"W-what? Oh, yea. I'm fine. Just running through some procedure steps in my head." She smiled at him, forcing more energy into it than she felt. He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking upward in a sardonic smirk.

"Don't know them all? And here I thought you were a good mechanic." Her smile flattened instantly, her countenance spelling instant death.

"I was _verifying _ 't want you stuck in that bed any more than you have to. Though maybe it would save me from having to build yet another set of automail. This stuff isn't cheap you know. You know what, maybe I won't reattach it." Her eyes were narrowed threateningly.

"Just give me my damn automail!" At the outburst, Winry relaxed, laughing softly. It was nice to have some normalcy after the two weeks of never-ending medical procedures. Pulling the metal arm out from the case, she ran her finger along the seam of the smooth metal, frowning at a minor scrape on the surface. The blond placed it gently onto the bed and walked around to study Ed's shoulder port, already falling into the process of re-installation. She had examined his ports earlier in the week at Colonel Mustang's suggestion and fixed the wiring problems that had been the source of the discomfort; this check just ensured that her work was holding.

"Hm?" she hummed, looking up at the teen when she realized he was speaking. His mouth was curled down in an annoyed frown, but his teeth gnawed at the inside of his lip, a sign of anxiety.

"C'mon Win, keep it together. Are you going to get this over with any time this century?" She rolled her eyes distractedly, picking up the arm and setting it against the shoulder port in preparation.

"If you'd quit your yapping, I'd get this over with sooner." She glanced at Al, standing over the bed, his hands wringing nervously together. "Al, why don't you wait outside? I'll tell you when I'm done." At her words, Ed visibly tensed then relaxed, his expression softening slightly in a look that could be connected with gratitude. Well, that was one thing she'd gotten right.

"Oh...OK," Al murmured, awkwardly shifting. His footsteps clanked loudly as he made his way out of his brother's hospital room. When he was gone, Winry fixed her gaze on her friend, placing a comforting hand onto the metal plating of his shoulder. He smiled softly at her, his lips trembling. He trusted Winry to do this right.

She braced her arm on his shoulder, the other grasping the new automail firmly so as to not let it slip from her hands. "Ready?" she whispered. He just nodded, eyes already squeezed shut. Taking a deep breath, she snapped the fake limb into place.

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Al flinched at his brother's muffled groan from within the hospital room, glancing back at the closed door. He wasn't sure if Winry had kicked him out to avoid the worried hovering or to get some alone time with Ed, which wouldn't surprise him in the least. Either way, however, he was stuck out here while the older boy's limbs were reattached. Though content to stand, he settled himself on a nearby bench, fixing his gaze at the polished tile floor.

All he could do was wait for now. He wanted to be with his brother, but he knew that Winry was enough for the older boy. It was strange to think that for the amount of time that Ed had been here, he hadn't left his side once when he was in the room. And those moments where he couldn't be there he spent with Colonel Mustang in the waiting room, worrying themselves sick in the white chairs. Needless to say, he'd gotten to know his brother's superior officer very well.

His leather hands tightened in his lap at the next pained moan, knowing that this one was the leg. Hopefully, Ed hadn't gone and torn something because his leg had jerked involuntarily due to the reattachment. Knowing his brother though, it was likely. The suit of armor stiffened as his blood seal tingled, confusion that he couldn't physically express filling him. That had been happening far too often lately, and he wasn't too sure what to blame it on. It was as if something was interrupting the flow of alchemy that anchored his soul to the armor and for that to happen, something must be wrong with his brother's alchemy.

The thought sent chills down his nonexistent spine. What if there _was_ something wrong with his brother's alchemy? But what would interfere with alchemy? The only thing that crossed his mind as a possibility was another's alchemy circle. Nobody studied the patterns of the lacerations when they were patching Ed up. What if there was a circle written into the teen's own flesh? Al felt nauseated at even the thought, glancing up at the door to his brother's room. It had been strangely silent for a little while, something that both worried and relieved the little brother. That meant that Winry was done with the installation but it also meant that his brother had blacked out.

Al hauled himself to his feet, wincing at the loud creaking of the old armor. Just as he stood, the mechanic stuck her head out, exhaustion lines creasing her face. "Al, you can come back in now." He nodded, expecting as much.

"How is Brother?" he asked in a whisper. Sighing, she smiled at him, nodding slightly.

"He didn't start bleeding again if that's what you're asking. And he's got four limbs to terrorize the doctors with now," the blond remarked. She grimaced at that image, her blue eyes hardening with annoyance. "That is, when he wakes up." Without another word, she opened the door wider to let him in. Grabbing the edge of the slab of wood, he slid into the room, his gaze instantly fixing on the unconscious form of his older brother. Again, that strange feeling crept up from within the seal painted onto the inside of his back. Maybe he should go talk with the Colonel about these feelings.

FMAFMA

Roy stepped into his house, plopping his keys into the dish set next to the door. Walking lethargically into his den, he eyed the couch set in there for visitors longingly. This was his first time home in a while and all he wanted to do was collapse onto the nearest piece of furniture and fall into a deep coma for the next twelve hours. But alas, he was here for a shower and a change of clothes. Riza had been suggesting that he wasn't smelling the greatest for a few hours, but it was only when she mentioned that he was acting like a worried father that he decided to take a break. Ed was with his brother and his mechanic; he would be fine for a few hours.

Groaning like an old man, he staggered into the bathroom, his hands blindly fumbling for the light switch by the door frame. Brightness assaulted retinas over-sensitized by exhaustion and he turned away with a wince, eyes briefly falling shut. Upon opening them, he was met with the reflection of himself, or at least that's what he thought it was. Black bags hung beneath sagging eyes, his normally shinning irises dulled into the likeness of coal. Stubble spotted his face, dark enough to appear as dirt rather than the hair that it was. Worry lines had meshed with the growing fatigue marks to create an aging effect on him. His hair was unkempt, obsidian strands falling into his face. Eying the image with disgust, he turned away, understanding why his lieutenant had finally turned him away from the hospital.

After taking a rather fast shower, he stepped out from behind the curtain, reaching blindly for the towel hung strategically by the tub. With a sigh, he wrapped it around his waist and stretched. The warm water had rejuvenated him slightly, but a few hours of sleep would do more. Yawning, he glared at the clothes crumpled on the floor where they had been thrown after being shed in a hurry. He would eventually have to pick them up. That day was not today. Snickering drunkenly at his defiance, he moved over to the mirror to analyze his appearance once more. Or, at least, that's what he meant to do, when something bright caught his eye.

On the bathroom tile, a small square of what appeared to be paper was laying on the floor by his pants. What the fuck...? When had that gotten there? He usually didn't carry paper with him, especially not in his pockets. Oh, wait. This was what Havoc had wanted him to look at. Something about it being found at the Cretan building... It took Mustang a few moments to piece the information together, a task that would have normally taken him seconds, if that. His eyes widened and he snatched the folded piece of paper from the floor, studying its surface. It crinkled in his hand, hard and brittle due to the amount of dried blood that it contained within its fibers.

He carefully unfolded the small paper, wincing at every crinkle, every noise that showed its frailty. It appeared to be blank, the amount of time it had been soaking in the blood having erased all possible marks. But upon closer scrutiny, a small black line showed through the dried brown. Another was clear on the only white corner of the sheet, this one curving, another traced beneath it. Small symbols were placed between the two lines and he brought it closer to his face, squinting as if it'd bring the image into better focus.

Gasping in shock, he surged from the room, towel fluttering behind him, and slid to a stop at his study, dripping water onto the hardwood flooring. Flipping on the light, he sat heavily into his chair, flattening the paper on the desk in front of him. His eyes tracing the outlines pressed into the paper, his hand floundered for a pencil. Taking hold of one, he carefully connected the lines he could see, his breath freezing in his throat. No way... No fucking way. He swallowed harshly as he lifted the paper, gazing with horror at the basic transmutation circle that he had just drawn. Shit. Obviously, there was more to the circle, but with this little information, it was impossible to tell what.

He burst from the study and headed to his bedroom, not forgetting that he was only in a towel. Within moments, he was dressed and heading out the door, fear-fueled adrenaline rushing through his veins. The paper was once again secured in his pocket as evidence to his claim. He had to get to the hospital.

* * *

_DA: Exhausted Mustang makes a return! And I somehow managed to mix plot and fanservice with that last scene. XD Skillz. Haha. And Winry finally makes an appearance! Speaking of Winry, my wig just came in! I'm so excited! _

_Anyways, 10 reviews last chapter... Hot damn. I've been averaged around 7 per chapter... 10 just boggles my mind. I humbly thank you all. I promise the actual plot will start up again next chapter. This was just a break for everyone. But they won't be resting for long... Hehehe_

_I'm gonna go work on my wig now! Tell me what you all think! I'll see you all next week!_

_May your hearts stay strong,_

_DarkAngel555_


	11. Chapter 11

_DA: Well this has been a stressful week. Little depressing at times, but I'm known for my resilience. Kinda like Ed if you think about it. If something knocks me down, I'll be right back up again and usually pissed off. Writing as him musta rubbed off on me. Haha. Anyways, I'll stop boring you with my ramblings and let you guys read this chapter. _

_Disclaimer: Still got nothing witty. Ick_

_Usual warnings apply. Funny how my writing ability improves quite a bit once there's blood involved. Hehe... Enjoy the chapter!_

* * *

Darkness to Dawn

Chapter 11

Al winced sympathetically as he unraveled the stained bandages away from his brother's abused torso, wanting to flinch himself at the angry, red welts and slashes that stared up at him from the pale flesh. Ed's breathing was strained, pain making everything forced and ragged. Resting a careful hand between the blond's shoulders, Al nearly pulled away at the groan. "I'm sorry, Brother," he murmured as he ran the gauntlet as gently as he could down the teen's back. The muscles were visibly bunched, trembling with the effort it took to keep the pain at bay. Guilt bubbled deep within Al, but this had to be done. Mustang had voiced his own concerns and shown the evidence to back it up, thus proving something was amiss; some alchemy was at work here. A gasp left Ed's throat, the hand nearing the small of the blond's back, and he arched his torso, trying to avoid the touch. A glint of horrified understanding lit in his irises.

The Colonel's hands restrained the teen at the shoulders, an apologetic expression softening his face. A look of panic was etched in Ed's gold eyes, his face pale. "No! Stop! You don't understand! If you go any farther you'll-" Al's fingers dipped into a deep cut and the effect was instantaneous. Blue light illuminated the room, spreading from the thick, now bloodstained, fingers to the entire array. The younger boy jerked his hand away, but it was too late.

The blond threw his head back, his body still curved away from physical contact. Teeth closed on his bottom lip, eyes clenched shut and his face pinched in pain. Mustang snatched his own hands away, terrified to touch the boy any longer. Without the support, Ed collapsed back onto the bed, body taut and shaking ever so slightly. Muffled groans assaulted their ears as they stared at each other, uncertain of what to do. Blood oozed from the blond's back, soaking the white bedsheets beneath him.

And still, the blue-white crackle of alchemy sparked through the air, the activated array obviously working some sort of effect on the boy. But as to what, neither of the coherent occupants of the room knew. Ed curled into himself on the bed, hands scrambling to clamp around the circle on his lower back. Whimpers escaped his throat, the pain unreal and draining. Energy poured from him as if he were the one using the array rather than it using him. He remembered when it had been carved, but unfortunately that memory had resurfaced too late. At the next wave of unbearable agony, he curled tighter, pressing his scraped forehead against the cool metal of his automail knee.

Ed's back was facing towards Mustang, the man pale with shock. He and Al had done this; they had unknowingly activated the array. The atmosphere was composed of crackling energy and ragged, pained breathing, the bright light illuminating the creases of both worry and exhaustion on the Colonel's face. His dark eyes remained fixed onto his subordinate, his mouth open as if to say something that might comfort the boy. And that's when it hit him. Ed's back was _facing _him. The array was facing him. His hands flailed for something to write with, eventually landing on the pencil that he had accidentally shoved into his pocket in his mad rush to get to the hospital. The other drew the stained paper from his other pocket, unfolding it and pressing it to the table by Ed's bed. "Al," he said, trying to focus on the alchemic circle on the teen's back. The root of it was dripping blood, the reaction reopening the injuries. The armored boy, who had been panicking over his brother, started at his name, jolting upright with a clang. "Keep him still. I'm going to try to copy this bastard down."

Al, though disgusted with the older man, did as told, leather gauntlets pressing down on his brother's shoulder and knee. A strangled whimper emerged from the injured party, adding to the feeling of nausea that was desperately desiring to be noticed despite the fact that Al could do nothing to act on such a feeling. Copy this down? Surely there was more important things to be worrying about, such as trying to stop the reaction before it does anything else! At the next pained noise, his hand moved up to smooth the golden hair on his brother's head in an attempt at comfort. The rough scratching of pencil lead against paper mingled with the other, slightly disturbing sounds. "Colonel," Al said at the next moan from Ed, worry overtaking his sense of manners. "Shouldn't we be trying to stop this?" Mustang appeared to not hear him, busily sketching the circle carved onto his brother's back.

"Al..." Ed whimpered, voice hoarse and pain-riddled. "Please..." Even Roy stiffened at that, pencil freezing where it was on the paper. But it continued not even a second later, though its journey was moving at a much faster pace.

"I'm here brother," the younger brother murmured, pressing his hand to the side of the alchemist's face. He was unable to do more, a thought that unnerved him more than anything. He was alive because his brother had risked everything to save him, but he could do nothing to help Ed in his time of need. The boy urged Mustang to copy faster, urgency filling him.

Finally, the pencil was thrown down and the dark-haired man straightened, concern etched into his onyx eyes. His hands hovered over the mark on Ed's back, shaking with uncertainty. He looked up at Al. "Any ideas?" As the words left the older man's throat, the alchemic energy died, the array fading to lacerations that were smearing blood over the bed. Without the blue outlining, the circle was almost unrecognizable. Somebody had known what they were doing when they made this.

Ed went limp on the mattress, breaths puffing from parted lips. His skin was white and shone with sweat, his back was wet with blood. Al called for his brother, voice rising a few octaves at the lack of response. Roy swallowed and left the room, the array on the table all but forgotten in his search for a doctor. Uneasiness churned in his stomach, leaving a bad taste in his mouth. Somebody had left that circle there knowing that they would find it, but who? Of course, just as everyone believed that things were winding down again, the situation was getting more complicated.

FMAFMA

Mustang had just stepped into the room when Ed gasped, eyes flashing open. He breathed heavily, staring at the ceiling with a somewhat blank expression. After a few moments, he relaxed, his metal hand pressing gently to his forehead. "Oh man," he moaned. "What happened to me?" The persistent frown that had been present on Roy's face ever since the activation deepened, taking a deep breath in.

"Alphonse accidentally activated an array that had been carved into your back," he answered, grimacing at his own words. Ed started at the sound of another's voice, head whipping to the side to face the speaker. Roy's hands were secured behind his back as he walked up to the bed, back tight and straight. "We're not sure what it does yet, but you passed out after the effects had faded." The boy's golden eyes searched his face, finding it eerie that the Colonel had his professional face on, the one with no emotions visible. He nodded slowly, eyebrows collapsing inward.

"Where's Al?" he whispered. He felt sick, his body aching all over. And why was he so weak? It felt like it took an enormous amount of effort to even lift his arm. Mustang even noticed the pale pallor to the boy's face, a problem that he had thought they were rid of.

"He's talking to the doctor. The man was understandably curious to why his patient, who had been healing so well, all of a sudden had reopened most of the injuries littering his back. So Alphonse is filling in a few holes for the man." That explained a little for Ed as to why his back felt like it had acid poured down it. As he opened his mouth to inquire what the array had looked like, the door opened again, a bulky form stepping into the room. It took Al all of two seconds to realize that his brother was awake and the younger boy came storming up next to Mustang.

"How're you feeling brother?" he asked, his voice attempting for light and comforting, but the undercurrent of heavy concern broke that facade. Ed smiled, pushing himself higher upright on the pillows. Pain raced up his spine, but he kept the sensation at bay and off his countenance.

"I'm good, Al. Just a little tired." Even without any facial expressions or telltale body language, Roy could read the skepticism rolling off the suit of armor in waves, holding his own doubt for Ed's statement. Rolling his eyes, he regarded the haggard appearance of his subordinate.

"Good as in you're actually good or good as in your version where it means I'm not dying therefore I must be fine," the Colonel replied, sarcasm dripping from his words. The teen glared at his superior, shaking his head.

"I'm actually good, Colonel Bastard. It's not that hard to believe." The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow, blinking disbelievingly at the boy. "But that's not the point here. What the hell was that array doing on my back?" The room was silent, Roy and Al glancing at each other awkwardly.

"We...don't know," the words slipped from Flame's mouth without permission, watching the annoyed surprise on Ed's face manifest. It pained him to know that he didn't know what that array had done to the boy, what it still could be doing. "I copied the circle down, but we haven't had a chance to really study it yet." Ed rolled his eyes, waving him off. He sunk back into his pillow, sighing. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he really didn't have the energy to remain conscious, not to mention try to figure out this mystery. Maybe some sleep would alleviate this ill feeling.

"Well, while you do that, I'm going to get some sleep. Goodnight Bastard." Roy rolled his eyes again, shaking his head.

"Goodnight, Shrimp." Ed frowned, aiming a molten glare at his superior officer.

"'m not a shrimp." The denial was mumbled, his eyes drifting shut against his own will. When did this bed get so comfortable? He was asleep within moments, head falling to the side with the flow of gravity. Mustang couldn't help but smile at the image, but managed to stop his hand before it came to a rest on the boy's golden locks. Al sighed next to him, reaching over to pull Ed's covers around his shoulders.

"He's lying..." the younger boy murmured, helmet tilted downwards. Mustang let silence take the room as Al settled into the chair next to Ed's bed, deep in thought. Ed was lying and that worried him to no end. That array had done something to the younger alchemist and they needed to know, sooner rather than later. His gaze wandered around the room, eventually coming to the piece of paper that he'd forgotten in his rush to get a doctor. The circle was scribbled in the bloodstained parchment, messy with haste, but readable. Picking up the paper, he scanned it, some standard symbols catching his attention, but none that would be of any help to solving this mystery. Shit, he wasn't versed enough in other varieties of alchemy to know what half of this shit meant. He needed a more skilled alchemist, one that wasn't focused in only one branch of the science. "Colonel?" Al's voice interrupted his thoughts and he glanced up at the boy, lowering the paper slightly. "Would you mind if I took a look at that?"

...Of course! The Elrics had trained with a teacher before trying their illegal act, one that wasn't specialized. And, on top of that, they were certified geniuses. Without a word, he handed the paper to the young boy. If luck was on their side (for once), maybe Al might discover something that he wouldn't.

FMAFMA

Al was sitting by the bedside table, leaning over the piece of paper as if to conceal it from the world. A few clean sheets were next to him, a pen clutched loosely in his large hand. He loved pens. Best thing mankind has invented in his opinion. Their casing made them durable to those who grab them too tightly as if they could not feel. He stared at the array, wishing for its secrets to be thrust into his head without much effort. The pen tapped against the hard wood, leaving dots of black ink in its wake. A few notes littered one of the pages, but nothing that was of much use. One mark said that the transmutation was meant to be continuous, or at least that's what it would have meant if it had been formed correctly. But Al was unsure if the poorly drawn symbol was due to the actual mark or an error in the copying. At least it wasn't working properly or his brother would still be feeling the effects, something that relieved the younger boy to no end.

"Hey Al," a hoarse voice whispered from the bed. Al looked up, dropping the pen. He really had no use for it right now anyway. Though the transmutation wasn't still ongoing, Ed still looked weak. His skin was pale, sickly even, and every time he moved, his limbs trembled beneath him. The doctor had put him back on the stronger pain medication due to this latest development but it didn't appear to be working that well, golden eyes shadowed with the pain that the teen was desperately trying to hide from his brother. Ed pulled himself to a sitting position with a moan, blinking sleep from his eyes as he studied Al. "What're you doing?"

"Nothing Brother," Al responded with a patience most envied. "Go back to sleep. You look like you need it." Ed threw him a sidelong glance, the expression heavy with annoyance.

"I'm not tired." If Al had any eyebrows, one of them would have risen to meet his hairline.

"Then I was just imagining your yawn?"

"Of course you were. I did warn you about that overactive imagination of yours."

"You did." The younger boy kept his gaze steady upon his stubborn older brother, hoping the stare would be more than enough to guilt the blond back into slumber. But alas, it was in vain.

"So what're you studying over there?" The suit of armor sighed, his stare dropping back to the table. The array just gazed right back at him, unyielding with its secrets. He scooped up the pen again, allowing it to dangle from his fingers as he hunched over the paper once more.

"The transmutation circle on your back. I was hoping to figure out what it does, but it's not as simple as it looks." Ed looked thoughtful, eyes flicking to the papers scattered over the table. Though his vision wasn't focusing properly, the circle looked complicated, arching and curving in ways that even he, alchemic genius, had never thought of before. If it had been carved onto him, then it would have to have been some Cretan form of alchemy all together and not an Amestrian form that Al had been looking for. Maybe he would know more.

"Let me take a look at it. I think I have an idea." He held out his hand, twitching his fingers expectantly. The suit of armor lifted the paper but hesitated, gaze flicking between the hand and the array itself. "C'mon, Al. It's not as if a piece of paper's going to actually hurt me." Though with his track record, it was highly possible for a piece of paper to actually hurt him. But he wasn't going to let Alphonse know that. His hand closed around the edge of the parchment as it was pushed into his palm, the paper crinkling in his grasp.

His back twinged as his arm returned to him, the paper now a few inches from his nose as he studied its contents carefully. Hmm. Just as he'd thought. This was no Amestrian alchemy, rather it was a technique specific to the western areas. He'd read a book on it once on the off chance that it had information regarding the philosopher's stone or another method to retrieve his and his brother's bodies. These symbols looked similar to those he'd seen in the books, though he couldn't think of their uses off the top of his head. It had been a long time since he'd read the book, and it had been a bust lead anyway, so it had been, for the most part, pushed from his memory. Of course. Just his fucking luck. "I don't think this is an Amestrian alchemy. Look." He pointed to the curves in the design, the places where the symbols lined those swirls. "Whereas Amestrian alchemy uses straight lines and encircled symbols, these are curved and each marking stands alone. This is an entirely different style than the arrays we use." Before he could even blink, the paper was out of his hands and in front of his brother's helmet. The soul red eyes scanned through the array several times, each time a little more frantic than the time prior. Ed snickered quietly, watching his brother come to the same conclusion as he had moments prior.

"...You're right!" He rolled his golden eyes; always the tone of surprise. When will it hit everybody that he was a _genius_? Seriously. "I've been going about this an entirely wrong way! You're a genius, Ed!" With an annoyed sigh, the alchemist snatched the paper back. He pointed to another spot on the paper, the central symbol.

"And, for Amestris, the array will be mostly blank in the center, but it looks like Cretan alchemy uses a symbol in the center to focus the entire array. It's my guess that if you can figure out the meaning behind this symbol, you can figure out what the function of the entire thing is." He paused for a moment, studying the paper again with an almost appreciating look in his eyes. One of his metal fingers lowered to trace the lines of the circle, expression gentle. "It really is amazing how these curves work. They must help direct energy..." The fingertip brushed against the lines and the entire thing lit up, the one on his back following not moments later.

The pain was instantaneous, his muscles tightening against it. A groan was forced out through clenched teeth, bared by lips pulled apart in the agony. "Brother!" Al's yell fell on deaf ears. His vision swam, colors blurring together, making him nauseous. The paper drifted from his suddenly limp hand, landing neatly onto the bed as his body collapsed backward onto his pillows. Ed squeezed his eyes shut, not like they were actually picking up any images anyway. A high pitched whimper emitted from his throat, his lips now squeezing together to clamp down any sound that wished to escape.

"Fullmetal!" Great. Another person to see his moment of weakness. A wave of pain cut off his thoughts, washing them away as if they were nothing. Tears leaked down his cheeks, sobs of pain muffling into the pillow that he shoved his face into. Whatever the array was doing, it fucking hurt. And it drained him, leaving him with no energy for himself.

"Edward!" a girl screeched, terror leaking from that one word. Someone cursed above him, a hand resting on his head.

"Al, get her out of here!" Ed cracked open his eyes, wincing at the bright lights of the hospital room. A black head bobbed near his face, and though blurry, he could almost see the concern emulating from the man. Moving his gaze slowly across the room, his eyes half mast, he watched vaguely as a blond blur escaped from the hold of some silver form and rushed to his bed, her hands scrambling for purchase on his body. At her touch, the flames that seemed to be searing his insides cooled somewhat, a faint moan of relief brushing against his mouth.

"What's happening?" Her voice shook with fear and he could hear the tears in her voice, trembling on the edges of her eyes. "Al, what's happening to Ed?" The silver form pulled the blond form from him, mumbling something that he could not understand. "No, let me go! I won't leave him!" He needed reassure her before she did something crazy. Wincing at every movement, he lifted his automail arm, fingers reaching for a hand that he couldn't see.

Fingers interlaced with his metal appendages, though he couldn't actually feel it. Schooling his expression into a soft smile, and only managing a slightly less pained grimace, he tightened his grip around the feminine fingers reassuringly. "'m ok, Win," he whispered hoarsely, the pained sentence betraying how badly he felt. A laugh was choked out above him, her soft forehead pressing into their fingers.

"Of course you are... You wouldn't admit if you weren't. Stupid alchemy freak." His chest heaved with a gasping laugh, sharp bursts of pain stabbing at each intake of air. He opened his mouth to say more when a blanket of darkness suddenly fell around him, cutting him off from everything. A horrified scream shattered the silence. And he knew no more.

FMAFMA

Roy stood in front of the doctor, face fixed in a worried scowl. It had only been a few hours since the last activation of that damn array and when Ed had woken, something hadn't been quite right with him. His eyes seemed lost and it took him more than a few minutes to gain his bearings again, something that concerned both his brother and his superior to no end. So Mustang had called on a doctor to check the boy out for any physical effects of the alchemic reaction. And now the doctor, Dr. Hendell, had the results. "Dr. Hendell," he started, his gaze secured onto the woman's face. "Do you know what's wrong with Edward?" She sighed, pursing her lips. Her own eyes carried worry for her patient, flicking between him and the clipboard in her hands.

"Unfortunately, yes, Colonel Mustang," she replied, leveling her eyes with his own. "When I performed the check on your suggestion, Edward seemed to be displaying the symptoms of Hypophosphatemia, a deficiency of phosphorous in the body. It was so unlikely, however, that I ordered a blood test be performed to prove it. The results cannot lie. Mr. Elric's phosphorous levels were in the moderate levels of the deficiency, nearing the severe levels. It's the deficiency that caused the seizure and the confusion upon his waking and I've started him on a phosphorous drip to stabilize him." Mustang's frown deepened. That's another piece to a puzzle they didn't quite understand. Now only to figure out what the fuck it meant. And what if the array kept activating? Shit.

"If the levels get to a low enough level, could it threaten his life?" Dr. Hendell gave him a strange look, raising an eyebrow at the question.

"I suppose it's possible, but highly unlikely now that we have knowledge of the deficiency. Why do you ask Colonel?" He paled slightly but shook his head, unwilling to disclose any more information. The array was threatening the boy's life. Could this get any worse? Shaking his head again, he pushed the thought from his mind. Best be cautious and not try to lose what little luck they had left.

"It's best if you don't know doctor. Thank you for your time." He walked off, leaving a very confused doctor behind him. Edward's door was open upon his arrival, allowing him to just step inside. Alphonse looked up at the entrance, but continued leafing through a small alchemy tome not even a moment later, several pages, one containing the copy of the array, spread out in front of him. Ed was asleep on the bed, his automail hand clutched in his mechanic's grasp. After what she'd witnessed, they were having a hard time removing Winry from the teen's side. Not like that was a bad thing. Ed could use the company when they were off tearing apart local libraries for more information.

With a sigh, Mustang settled himself into a chair that had been placed next to Al, instantly scanning through some of the notes that the boy had made in the short time he was gone. They were of no real worth; just some standard symbols that stabilized the array. Gently easing a blank piece of paper out from under the armor's elbow, he stared at the array, tapping his pencil against the paper. The book was lowered down by his arm, which was extended across the table. "Colonel, I need to get to the books within Central's library," Al said, the kind voice echoing in the empty armor. He lowered writing hand, pondering the thought. "The books from the local libraries are good, but I need something more specialized. Brother mentioned that this was Cretan alchemy. I need books on that." Still silent, Roy nodded, exhaling softly. He didn't mistake the fear and urgency in the younger boy's words. If Ed was trying to overcome something that hurts him in some way, Al would always be right there to support the boy. Why would now be any different? Ah, hell.

"Alright. I'll bring you to Central Library tomorrow. They'll be sure to have at least a few books concerning Creatain alchemy." For a boy without a face, Al sure was expressive. Gratitude emitted from the armored shell in waves, the soul red eyes sparkling at the black-haired man. His smile barely perceptible, he pushed himself out of his chair, stretching his arms upward. "And if that's the case, I'm going to head home to get a few hours of sleep so my head will be clear. Call me if something happens."

"No problem Colonel. Pleasant dreams!" His grin widening slightly, he rubbed the boy's helmet as he passed in an endearing gesture. The boy shivered slightly when the hand was removed as if he could feel the touch, light chimes filling the room. Glancing at Ed once more before he left, he was taken aback at how weak the teen looked despite the treatment racing through his veins. His cheeks were hollow and gaunt, the skin still stretched tightly across bone despite the amount of calories the doctors had been piling into him. His golden hair seemed to have dimmed, appearing brittle and thin as it fanned out across the white pillow. His expression tight, he turned and strode out the door, not wishing to see his subordinate in that state any more.

FMAFMA

The library was quiet that day, few visitors coming into its cool interior to explore its contents. However, the all encompassing silence didn't stop the pair who had set up fort at a table near the bookshelves labeled "C". Book after book was thrown onto the table by one Roy Mustang, soon picked up and opened by his companion, Alphonse Elric. The dark-haired Colonel was up on a ladder, his finger tracing the spines of a line books, many of them journals. Al was at the table, several of the books open around him with a brown-stained paper slung over a page of one older tome. One large finger pressed onto the opposite page, he hastily scribbled notes down on a journal of his own, the pen scratching on the thin paper. Mustang plucked one of the books he had been investigating on the ladder and threw it down onto the table below, earning a few glares from the librarians at the desk. The annoyed expressions were easily annoyed, a much bigger task distracting them. Finding out what the hell was wrong with Edward was proving to be a bigger task than either of the pair had imagined and if it wasn't for the dire situation, it might have been easier to just give up.

Mustang climbed down the ladder, another book in hand. "Any luck?" he questioned, leaning over the shoulder of the armor to peer at the boy's notes. Al shook his head, finishing the sentence he was on.

"It's all just basic symbols, nothing that's really adding up right now," the boy murmured, hand moving to lift up the stained paper. The symbols were simple for such a complex circle, an irritation for those who were trying to unlock what it meant, what it was capable of. "I feel like its function is just under the surface of what we found so far...we're just missing something." Mustang resisted the urge to snort, dragging a hand down his unshaven face. That was the understatement of the year. But Al was right. They had to be close, but they were missing something that was key to its power. What that key was, they were clueless to.

"Maybe we need to focus more on the lines of the circle. They might mean more than the symbols themselves." As if to prove his point, Roy leaned over and ghosted a finger over the outline of the circle, curving with what would be the flow of energy, had the circle been active.

"You say that as if it's so easy." The words were muttered, barely heard above the squeaking of joints in need of oil as Al extended an arm to turn a page in one of the books. Mustang retracted his own limb, his frown returning full force. If only it was as easy as words made it seem. He angrily brushed back a few strands of black hair that brushed against his eyelashes, snapping his gaze back to the shelves lined with volumes and volumes of the same subject: Cretan Alchemy. Though the library supplied a lot quantity wise, it was _quality_ that they were looking for and that was lacking. Books upon books, but each one filled with the same information. It was getting tiring to say the least.

Several hours later found them in a similar situation, only with the Colonel sitting across from Al, his nose lodged firmly in a book. The urge to just slam his head into the table in front of him was becoming more appealing as time passed, enough so that he was eying the sturdy wood around the edges of the cover, wondering idly how much it would take to knock him unconscious. A quiet, lighthearted voice dragged him from his frustrated thoughts. "You made me a promise once, Colonel," Al whispered, placing his own book gently down. Roy lowered his with shaking hands in order to meet the younger boy's gaze, dark eyes wide at the sudden sound. "You promised you wouldn't give up on Brother. Because if you did, then I would know that there was no hope. I know it's for a different situation now, but the same oath still applies here. You can't give up. I know the answer's here somewhere. We just need to hang in there, for Brother."

Mustang averted his gaze, his irritated expression softening into one flecked with guilt and self-loathing. He couldn't give up, not with one of his subordinates on the line, but how does one go on when the situation is wavering on the brink of hopelessness? He stared at the floor, tracing the grains in the wood swirling intricate designs around his polished boots. With a hefty sigh, he dropped his head into his hands, palms grinding into his eyes. Here he was, a Colonel in the military being taught childhood lessons by one at least half his age. He should be ashamed of himself. A breathy laugh, bordering on a gasping sob nearly brought on by exhaustion, shook his shoulders as he shook his head, his forehead sliding against his fingers.

A hand clamped on his shoulder, his head jerking up at the sudden contact. Whirling around, he breathed a soft sigh of relief at the sight of the librarian. He hoped she wasn't here to bitch them out. He really was too tired for that shit. Clearing his throat and cleaning all emotions from his expression, he addressed her. "What can I do for you, miss?" Her gaze swept disapprovingly over the mess they had strewn across the once clean tabletop, made up of books, crumpled paper, broken pencils, and other assorted study materials. Shit, she _was_ here to scold them.

"There's a call for you at the front desk Colonel from Central Military Hospital," she informed him, locking eyes with him. All color drained from his face, a cold pit forming in his stomach. Pushing his chair over in his haste, he all but sprinted to the desk, accepting the telephone the moment it was passed to him.

"This is Colonel Mustang." Even his greeting sounded tight and breathless, anxiety pouring out through his tone.

"Colonel," Hawkeye's calm voice said through the speaker, bringing a sort of structure to his thoughts. "Major Elric has had another 'attack'. He went into a seizure near the end. The doctors have him stabilized again." The tight concern in his stomach eased at her words, her informative reports bringing him a comfort that nobody else's could. Edward was ok. He'd suffered another activation, but he was still alive. Sighing into the receiver, he rubbed his forehead, scrunching his eyes shut. "Colonel?" He smiled slightly at the hint of worry that she'd added to his title.

"Ok," he finally said, more relaxed than before. "We'll be there soon."

FMAFMA

Ed glared at his two supervisors, arms crossed over his chest. A plastic tube ran from the crook of his elbow to the bag hanging from the IV stand. Al twittered anxiously next to Mustang, who glared right back at the boy, dark eyes meeting molten gold. "Well?" the teen snarled, eyes narrowing. Roy raised an eyebrow in surprise, the raw anger in that one word catching him off guard. "Aren't you going to tell me why the hell you woke me up? Or maybe you woke me to check if I was alive? Hate to break to you, but I'm still here." The slim black eyebrow rose higher. Sure, the kid had a short fuse, but this was unwarranted.

"Sorry, Brother," Al apologized hurriedly, hands waving in front of him. "We didn't mean to dis-" Mustang cut the boy off, his own sharp voice cutting above the higher pitched tone.

"What the hell, Fullmetal?!" he snapped, scowling. "We came in to check on you before we head back to the library. We didn't mean to wake you up. No need to be annoyed with us." Ed held his glower for a little longer before huffing, brushing his bangs back with his metal limb. When the hand dropped, the fury was nearly absent, a softer, calmer expression gracing his face.

"Sorry," he breathed, smiling softly at his visitors. "The doctor said irritability may occur, bit I didn't expect it to be that hard to control." Roy sighed, allowing his own annoyed anger to melt away. He should have guessed as much; Dr. Hendell did mention that the deficiency, if bad enough, may cause a few psychological problems that would fade with treatment. "So how's the research going? I'd be helping you, but the staff won't let me out of this damn hospital bed. Winry keeps threatening to take my automail away if I keep nagging." The Colonel snorted quietly, shaking his head.

"Brother, you know that if the doctors don't think you're ready, then you shouldn't be up," Al chided, fixing his gaze on his older brother. Ed waved submissively at the younger boy's words, rolling his eyes.

"Yea, yea. So alchemy. How's the research on the array going?" There was a wistful note to his voice, a longing to be out there.

"We've verified that it is, in fact, a Cretan array. But beyond that, nothing of value has surfaced in any of the books," Mustang informed, finding it difficult to keep the disappointment from his voice. They'd studied the damn circle at least five different ways, but nothing. The books in the library were far too vague in regard to anything pertaining to the decoding. "I find that a lot of the tomes are about the basics rather than complex arrays." The blond had his hand pressed loosely about his mouth, as if hiding the thoughtful twist of his lips.

"I don't suppose you brought any of the materials with you..." He glanced up only to see them shake their heads, his gaze dropping once more to the bedsheets. "Of course not," he muttered sardonically under his breath.

"After what happened last time I gave you the array, we decided it was best to leave that specific piece of paper far from you," the suit of armor explained, tone patient. Ed didn't seem to hear his brother, murmuring his own thoughts back to himself. Roy threw Al a questioning look, receiving a shrug as a response.

"Ok," the teenaged alchemist finally said, words slow. "If there's nothing in the books in Central's library, there's only one option. I saw an alchemy book in...the warehouse." Roy's lips tightened at Ed's momentary hesitation, Al shifting nervously next to him. Maybe he wasn't as healed mentally as he lead them all to believe. "If we go back, we might find more information on the array that we can't find using Amestrian resources." Mustang nodded contemplatively, his mind whirring through the idea. There was just one problem.

"'We' Fullmetal? I believe _you're _confined in that hospital bed." Furious flames ignited in Ed's golden eyes, the anger reappearing much too easily for anyone's liking.

"You need me to come along bastard, or you won't be finding anything."

"The building's in slightly different condition since the last time you saw it due to my team blowing it up. Your expertise, however small, is practically useless when dealing with a pile of rubble." The kid's teeth were grinding together, lips twitching as if to bare them.

"Fuck off Mustang. This whole situation concerns me and my well being. I'm entitled to help if I want to. I'd rather someone less useless work on it." Mustang's eyes narrowed, scowling deeply at the boy. His anger was blinding him from seeing the hidden meaning behind the words, a secret protectiveness that Ed always tried to hide.

"Well it's a good thing I'm your superior officer. You're ordered to stay here while we go investigate the warehouse." Ed's eyes were practically blazing with pure fury, the skin between his eyebrows crinkling with the emotion. A nearly feral snarl left his throat, looking ready to pounce onto the older man and beat him senseless. Mustang's hands were twitching towards his pocket, where his gloves were stored. And, seeing where this argument was heading, that's when Al stepped in between them, blocking the teen's line of sight.

"Enough Ed," he said, his voice firm enough to calm his enraged brother without yelling. "Colonel Mustang has a point. You're still healing and the area might still be dangerous. And with your arm still in that cast, you can't use alchemy." Ed's glare focused onto the suit of armor, frowning at the mention of his weaknesses. "What if the array activates again too? We wouldn't be in any position to help you. It's best if you stay here."

"But Al-" The younger boy didn't even let Ed formulate a response.

"It's for your own good, brother. I don't want you to get hurt again." Al's voice wavered slightly, a careful mix of worry and fear balanced in the delivery. The blond took several deep breaths, unwilling to raise his voice against his younger brother. His eyes cooled into something kinder, the anger boiling just beneath the surface. Besides, he couldn't say no to Al when he used that tone.

"Ok, Al... I'll stay." The words felt like acid in his mouth as he spoke them. Al stared at him with those unblinking red eyes, trying to ascertain if that was truth. Finally, the boy sighed and nodded, accepting Ed's statement. Good. Now he just needed a plan.

* * *

_DA: Well that was long. I think I'm gonna start posting shorter chapters after this because this was exhausting. But I had to give you this much. This chapter didn't have much going on in regards to entertainment and I'm one to believe that the boring parts should be just thrown out there all at once to get them over with. And sorry if you found any mistakes... Didn't really go through it like I normally do._

_How'd you guys like that tiny little EdWin moment? Subtle, well kinda, enough that it wasn't glaringly obvious that I find this couple adorable. At least I think so, but you're welcome to your own opinions. I'd also like to point out that while I am working towards a medical degree, I am not a doctor yet and therefore my medical lingo may not be up to par. So work with me here. But yes, that is a real deficiency. _

_Anyways, I'm finished with my cosplay! Wig's all set and the costume's ready and I'm super excited for my first full on convention! But that's all for today. Tell me what you guys thought about this chapter and I'll see you all next week!_

_May your hearts stay strong,_

_DarkAngel555_


	12. Chapter 12

_DA: Hey everyone! It's that wonderful time of week again and I've just finished my last anatomy lab (thank God I'm so familiar with the nervous system) so I'm now 100% free on Fridays! Gotta love college. Once again not gonna bore you with meaningless ramblings. Let's get right to the chapter shall we!_

_Disclaimer: Still got nothing witty. I think the wit has drained from me for the month... _

_Well, hope you guys are ready cause here we go!_

* * *

Darkness to Dawn

Chapter 12

Ed took a deep breath in, looking over the edge of the bed. Had the floor seemed so far down before? He couldn't seem to remember. Winry was back at her hotel room for the night, the doctors had turned the lights off for him to go to sleep, and Al and Mustang had already left for the warehouse. Everything was in order for him to make his escape. The only thing left for him to do was actually get off the bed, something apparently harder than it looked. Squeezing his eyes shut, he inched off the bed, listening to the light clacking of his automail toes against the floor, soon followed by a cool sensation as his flesh lowered to follow the false limb. So far so good.

With both feet flush against the floor, he heaved himself upright, his metal hand clamping around the head of his bed as a wave of dizziness overtook him. He sighed lightly as it passed, nodding to himself. It was just his lack of being upright these last few weeks. Releasing the headboard, he eased his weight evenly across both feet, wincing as his still healing muscles pulled. His knee ached sharply in protest, demanding for him to relax it. The closing hole above his automail also complained at his weight, threatening to reopen. He wavered for a moment, but for the most part was stable. Phase 1 complete.

Treading light so as to not alert the overly perceptive nurses, he made his way over to the window, growling softly against the pain. The bruises for the most part had faded, but the whip lashes and knife lacerations alike were slow in healing. Not to mention, every time the damn array activated, the carving reopened, making that specific injury fresh. Walking wasn't exactly fun in this condition, but he did it anyway. He didn't want his brother and Mustang going in there alone. It was his problem, so he should deal with it.

A sliver of moonlight across the windowsill illuminated the small array he had carved here earlier that day during his physical therapy for his knee. He had paused, feigning exhaustion, at this spot for not even a moment, but long enough for him to create the circle without being noticed. Ed brushed his hand over the marking, activating the alchemic reaction coded into the circle. Blue light glimmered out from the initial array, lining the side of the hospital until it reached the bottom. When it faded, the outer concrete was riddled with cracks and holes, enough to give Ed a clear shot at climbing down.

He frowned at his work, his critical gaze not too fond of the messy job he'd done. Normally, he would have created a full ladder, but this was unfortunately the best he could do in the time that had been allowed for him in the short time he'd used to create the array. With a light sigh, he pushed the window open with his prosthetic, cursing his broken limb with every thought. Latching his metal fingers around the strip of wood that stretched from the inside of his room to the open air, the teen swung himself over the edge, digging his slipper clad feet into notches in the outer wall.

The night air was frigid, a blast of cold air ripping right through his hospital garb. The temperature dragged goosebumps to the surface of his skin, pebbling his fair skin with texture. He shivered, pressing his bandaged forehead into the rough siding. The wood above him creaked in protest, a majority of his weight supported by the thin board. He couldn't stay here. Swallowing harshly, he lowered one foot down to feel for another crack, stubbornly keeping his eyes on the wall in front of him. He was totally _not_ afraid of heights. Especially when he was unable to transmute on the fly and covered head to toe in severe injuries.

Ed crawled down the side of the building slowly but surely, only moving one limb at a time to ensure his safety. His foot slipped a few times, but the steady grip of his automail saved him, not yielding to the heavy weight. It was moments like these that Ed was glad his hand wasn't flesh. Climbing down the side of the building with two real hands would be far more dangerous, especially with one arm completely useless. He pressed the sling tighter to his torso, his lips pressing together in concentration. Sweat pricked his forehead, the frigid wind turning it to ice water as it slipped down his face, the tracks going numb.

Repressing a shiver, he continued down, his foot moving to find the next hole. Just as he moved one, the other foot slid out of its slipper, throwing him off balance. His metal hand tightened around the concrete, the fingers digging individual holes in the stone. Shit, shit, shit. Continuing to swear harshly under his breath, he scrambled for another foot hold, heart thudding in his chest. His shifting weight increased the pressure of his hand on the wall, loose stones showering him from above. Shit. His bare automail toes were splayed against the wall for some additional support, his other foot, still clad in the slick slipper, still scrambling for purchase on another imperfection.

_Crack!_ A startled yelp leaving his lips, his hand was suddenly holding nothing but a chunk of what used to be a part of the outer wall, a weightlessness filling his being as he started free-falling the remainder of the way down. Fuck. This was going to hurt a lot. His hand wheeled back as if to slow himself down, his feet still frozen in shock. He could almost feel the ground fast approaching as gravity preformed its job. Ed's mind flew through possibilities, but none of them practical due to his lack of his other arm. He wondered vaguely if he should scream, the cold night's chill breezing upward against his already cold skin.

Warmth encircled him, strong arms breaking his impact with the hard ground. He grunted at the still painful contact, another, older voice mirroring his own complaints. Slowly, he opened eyes he hadn't realized had closed, a pair of onyx eyes staring into his own. Well, fuck. He'd thought that Mustang had already left. It was just one thing after another, wasn't it? "Are you alright Ed?" the Colonel asked, a hint of concern in the man's voice that Ed chose to overlook, as always. After all, Mustang was a manipulative bastard, the only reason he would care was if it benefited him in some way.

"Fine," he responded tersely, quickly shifting the look of shock on his face to a glare. "Put me down." A trace of relief brushed against Roy's face before it vanished, a scowl replacing it instantly. He set the teen on his feet, hands primed to catch him if he fell. Once on his feet, the blond searched for the slipper that had caused his fall, spotting it next to the base of the hospital. He brushed it off before shoving his automail foot back into it, frowning harshly at the damned shoe.

"Ok, if you don't mind me asking, Fullmetal," Ed winced internally at his military name, knowing the inflection in his superior officer's voice. He prepared himself for the lecture. "What the hell were you thinking?! You know you're not supposed to up and around. If we hadn't been around, you would have died. It's a good thing your younger brother knows you better than you know yourself." The teen flinched at the mention of Al, glancing up to spot the familiar metallic glint of his younger brother's form.

"I need to come bastard!" he snapped, molten golden eyes flicking to Mustang. "And not just because of what we need to find. I...I need to know..." His voice cracked, softening at the last confession. The dark eyes cooled slightly, a strange glint of understanding overtaking the anger. Next to the dark-haired man, Al sighed.

"Alright... You can come along, brother," Al conceded, his tone effectively conveying his dislike at the decision. Ed jerked around to face his brother, surprise once again gracing his features. "But, only if you don't do anything that would strain your injuries." The teen chuckled underneath his breath, shaking his head.

"Yes, Al," he agreed, his voice annoyed. Roy frowned, but said nothing, knowing that he had nothing to add to the conversation any longer. Ed had laid down his cards, a very good hand at that, and Al had set his own rules to the game, leaving him out of any decision they made. Kids... He met Riza's tawny gaze, shrugging at her. Her lips lifted slightly to display her amusement, her eyes etched with the concern she felt for the older of the two Elrics. But they both knew that they had lost.

FMAFMA

The moon was high in the velvet sky when they reached the wreckage of the Cretan building, Ed growing more and more tense with each step. Hawkeye, who was keeping at the rear to watch their backs, placed a gentle, reassuring hand on his shoulder. Roy was blatantly ignoring the younger alchemist, anger rolling off of him in waves. Al strode between Flame and Fullmetal, periodically glancing back at his older brother. Overall though, the disapproval at Ed's presence far overtook any worry or anger that peppered the atmosphere. Ed knew he shouldn't have gone, but he had to see this building's remains for himself; he needed the closure.

Large hunks of brickwork indented the dew-softened ground, slabs of concrete scattering alongside them. Ed, his flesh leg trembling beneath his weight, sighed, his metal fingers lacing into the golden strands that hung in his face to brush them back. Finding any book, much less the specific one they needed, intact in this mess was going to be damn near impossible. "So," he began, grasping the plaster in the sling to feign the appearance of crossing his arms. "Where are we gonna start?"

"_You_ are going to find a nice rock somewhere and sit the hell down before you fall, Fullmetal," Mustang sniped, barely controlled rage boiling beneath his words. "We-" At this, he gestured to the remainder of the group. "On the other hand, are going to dig through this rubble to find something of use." Ed glared at the older man, mind racing for a comeback. Mustang's dark eyes glowered at him from over his shoulder, a gloved finger pointing to a boulder that lined the clearing. "I mean it Fullmetal. Now go." Huffing, the blond stamped over to the rock and dropped heavily onto it, scowling at Roy. The Colonel rolled his eyes and turned to Hawkeye and Alphonse, giving swift orders to split up and search.

Only a half hour in and Mustang was already frustrated. There was no fucking way that they were going to find a single book in this gigantic fucking mess. (That he'd created, the back of his mind reminded him unhelpfully). With an annoyed grunt, he dropped the rock he was holding and snapped out of reflex, his hands only clad in standard gloves rather than his trademark ignition cloth gloves. He resisted the childish urge to kick the hunk of brick and plaster and glanced back at his youngest subordinate, quickly scanning the small form like he had every few minutes since the start of the mission.

Ed had become far more pale than he had been earlier, the color leeching from his fair skin as if bleached. And though he'd complained about being made to sit out for the first few minutes, he'd quieted, shifting on the boulder to elevate his knee. Mustang grimaced at that sight, knowing that it had to ache, a lot. All in all, the kid looked like hell.

Sighing, the Colonel went back to work, leaning over to lift yet another piece of rubble. His back twinged in protest as he did so, complaining about the hard labor that it'd been made to do. Rolling onyx eyes, he tightened his grip in preparation, muscles bunching beneath the military jacket. "Um, Colonel Mustang?" Al addressed from a few meters away, tone confused. Roy let go of the debris and stood, brushing off his hands. Alphonse had a piece of wall clutched to his chest as he stared at the spot that it used to occupy, red eyes unreadable.

"Yes Alphonse?' Mustang responded, ignoring the hint of breathlessness in his voice. The armored boy dropped what he was holding and met the older man's eyes.

"Is there supposed to be a staircase here?" In the distance, Ed sat up, moving his leg out in front of him with a wince that they all chose to ignore. Mustang's mind immediately fell back to the floor map that they'd used during the rescue. There hadn't been a basement. At all. Shit, that had to have been dug recently.

"No, I don't believe so..."

"Well," Ed interjected, bringing attention o the fact that he'd moved from his spot. Al swung his helmet around to gawk at the blond, the shorter boy peering down into the dark stairwell. "Shall we?" He gestured to the opening, smirking at Roy. The older man opened his mouth to state his opinion on the matter when Ed cut him off. "And I can walk down a few stairs. I swear, you've gotten paranoid in your old age bastard."

Paranoid? Paranoid wasn't the word to describe what Roy felt. But Ed didn't know that. The boy didn't know a lot of things, things only Riza knew about, though the others probably made their own theories. He didn't see Roy's face when Havoc had reported Ed missing; didn't see when he'd stayed up at night worrying and trying to figure out what the hell the enemy had done with his subordinate; didn't see the elation he'd felt upon finding the kid nor the parental-like concern in his eyes when he'd sat in the hospital room days after Ed had been brought in; And most of all, Ed hadn't witnessed Roy's guilt, the times he'd nearly broken down because he bore the blame of Ed's capture. Not like he'd admit any of this to the boy. Some things were better left unsaid.

Roy shook his head and sighed, combing fingers through his black fringe. "By all means, Fullmetal. After you."

FMAFMA

The basement was as dark as the stairwell leading to it, the inky blackness oppressive as they stepped into its depths. Roy sighed next to Ed, his hand rustling his uniform in search of something. With a snap, light blossomed into the darkness, fading as quickly as it was made. This time, the Colonel swore, alchemy charging the air as he prepared to ignite another burst. Just as it was released, lights overhead flickered on, illuminating the rather large chamber. Ed glanced around, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. There was no switch nearby that he could see. Strange. Continuing his search, the confusion on the boy's face turned strained, a smile twitching on his lips. Mustang was frozen where he had been when the lights had turned on, his eyes wide and his hand reaching out to create another explosion to reveal some features of the room.

"Well, bastard," Ed snorted, the older man slowly relaxing from his stiff position. "Looks like you were useless yet again. Perhaps you really can't teach an old dog new tricks." Roy sputtered at the comment, whipping around to glare at the blond alchemist. Ed just snickered and walked to the head of the group, resting his metal hand on his hip. "Anyways, this place is huge, we should split up and search separately."

"Fullmetal, I am the one with the highest rank here, therefore, I give the orders, not you," Roy informed him, recovering from Ed's previous statement. The teen just raised an eyebrow, smirking expectantly. "And I say that we should divide and conquer."

"My suggestion and yours mean the same thing dammit!"

"True, but I used words that your short vocabulary wouldn't comprehend."

"Dammit Mustang! Always the height jokes with you. I am _not_ a shrimp!"

"Whatever you say, Fullmetal. Don't you have a basement to be searching?" Ed grumbled under his breath, anatomically impossible suggestions uttered just loud enough to be heard. But he limped off, his eyebrows drawing together once more as he turned away from the bastard. Something wasn't quite right about this place. A familiar sort of energy filled the air, charging for an unknown end. Pushing the premonition far from his mind, he trudged to the nearest table, a workbench by the look of it. Metal tools were scatted on the chipped wooden surface, all worn with use and covered in rust. Didn't seem like the area was in use anymore. Strange, considering the place had to have been built only a few weeks ago.

A layer of dust coated a nearby table, this one similarly covered with a variety of tools. The next one he checked was even worse, plans littering the bench top. The papers were pushed aside and spread neatly, as if they were being used before the workers had left. With a wince, he leaned over to study their contents when a glimmer from floor in front of the table caught his eye. No way. Was that...blood? He pushed himself upright, golden eyes staring at the wet stain on the ground. Unconsciously, he stepped around the bench, bringing himself closer to discover what the hell it was.

The stain was on a pedestal, only slightly raised from the floor beneath it. It curved and followed the lines of the surface that it laid, creating a very familiar shape. Ed smiled slightly, the expression colored with disbelief. Honestly, did the Cretans have nothing else better to do than to study alchemy? He doubted it. They had seemed pretty adamant about making him work for them, so they couldn't have been any good at the science. That was the only explanation he could think of that would justify what had occurred during his captivity, or at least, the only one that made sense.

Calling the others over, he circled slowly around the array, suddenly hit with a splash of deja vu. He'd definitely seen this specific rune somewhere else before now, but where? Every memory from the very end of his imprisonment to his awakening in the hospital was vague and blurry at best, nonexistent at worst. So if he'd seen it sometime during then, it was highly unlikely that he'd find out what it was. With a sigh, he glanced at Lieutenant Hawkeye, who'd arrived first after his summoning. She appeared perplexed, her fine eyebrows furrowing. Clad in her military issue pants and a black undershirt, her pistols were on view for anyone to see, a warning to those that might consider crossing her. Her sapphire blue jacket was around Ed's shoulders, strung there since the start of this impromptu mission. She'd given it to him upon noticing the slight tremble to his movements, the night's chill soaking through his thin hospital sleepwear.

"Well well," Mustang whispered by his ear, breaking the young alchemist from his thoughts. "What do we have here?"

"It looks like alchemy," Al responded, cutting off his brother's smartass response before it could be said. Ed pouted, huffing quietly to himself. Sometimes he thought that Al could read his mind, like his armor gave him special Elric telepathy or something of the sort. He'd have to look into that later.

"Yea..." Ed murmured, shaking the ridiculous concept from his mind. Maybe the pain was getting to him more than he had originally thought. "What the hell were the Cretans planning?"

"Beats me. I couldn't figure out one Cretan circle, much less two."

"Sometimes it takes solving a few puzzles to get some answers. I bet this opens a doorway or another opening of some sort. I'm going to get a closer look." Without waiting for permission, he stepped up onto the platform, his wandering eyes eagerly exploring the contours of the diagram. Al, watching his older brother carefully, was trying to recall where he'd seen this array before. A metallic gasp echoed in the emptiness, dread forming within him as he watched Ed crouch down to press his only available palm to the array.

"Brother, no!" The warning reached the boy's ears too late, his metal hand grazing the wooden surface. A blue glow ran from the blond's fingertips to the entire circle, running through the lines and activating the symbols etched within. The energy crackled up and Ed screamed, the array on his back responding to the one on the floor. "ED!" The teen collapsed to the floor, choked moans rolling from his throat. His hand curled around his lower back as if to protect it from more injury, the pressure only making the burning agony even worse.

A laugh reverberated around the room. "At last," the newcomer announced, stepping out onto the balcony that observed the whole workroom. "The final piece has fallen into place. Now all of Amestris will bow to the might of Creta!" Concealed in the wall of the basement, a pair of burning red eyes flickered into existence, their light reflecting off the metal of its body.

* * *

_DA: Heh heh. Cliffhanger. Don't worry, next chapter is only a week away. It'll go by fast. I have to admit, I think the escape from the hospital scene is one of my favorite scenes in this whole story. I'm not sure why, but I really like it. _

_Alright, announcements. This story has at least one (maybe two depending on how I feel like splitting it up) solid chapter left and a short epilogue that I'm going to mix in with some comments of my own. Yep, we're almost done here folks. Almost at the end of the road. But don't worry, still got lotsa fun to go. Hehe. Yep, you'll enjoy next chapter I think. Or you'll all hate me. That's usually how things go with me. _

_See you all next week! Don't forget to tell me what you thought of this chapter. I'd like to reach 100 reviews by the end of this, but no pressure. I'll still post next week regardless._

_May your hearts stay strong,_

_DarkAngel555_


	13. Chapter 13

_DA: Hello and welcome to another chapter of Darkness to Dawn! I have a feeling this one will be cheerful and full of hope... HAH no. I don't do cheerful. Like ever. The best I do is sarcastic. I deal best in angst, hard bloody angst. Mmmmm. Anyways, sorry this is later than normal, I've been struggling all day on a short story I'm writing for a Danny Phantom 30 day theme challenge on tumblr. But here I am!_

_Disclaimer: If I owned, there totally would have been full on physical torture in FMA. Just sayin._

_DA: Usual warnings apply. Enjoy the chapter._

* * *

Darkness to Dawn

Chapter 13

Roy felt sick to his stomach, his dark eyes remaining on the frail form writhing in the middle of the circle. And this was why he'd thought Ed should have stayed at the hospital, where it was _safe_. It would be just like a Cretan bastard to leave something like this behind. They would have guessed that their captive would come back to make sure of their destruction and then stumble across the circle and accidentally activate it. The enemy was getting creative. He hated it when the enemy got creative. Al was screaming for his brother, voicing the raw terror that Mustang himself was feeling. Hawkeye was pale, a hand covering her mouth, open from shock. His hand shot out to hold the suit of armor back as it began to storm forward, another concern raising to his mind. "No, Al. You can't. We can't risk you getting caught in the reaction as well."

"But Colonel, I can't just leave Brother there alone!" The dark-haired man swallowed at the tears in those words, wincing internally at the blow they dealt. "He's in _agony_! He needs me there!"

"I know, Alphonse." His own voice had grown soft, his own emotional turmoil weakening it. "But we can't just barge in there half-assed. That's what got Ed in this situation. If we do the same, we could end up just like him." The soul red eyes stared down at him, pleading with the older man to just let him help. Ed would have his hide if he let Al rush into danger without thought. A gun cocked behind him, the sound causing him to whip around to glance inquiringly at his lieutenant.

"Colonel!" Hawkeye called, her pistol aimed somewhere above his head. "11 o'clock. Near the ceiling." Frowning, he followed her instructions, his eyes coming to a rest on a man, dressed noticeably in a Cretan military uniform. Well then. This was awfully convenient. The man's eyes were on them, a pleased smile curling his lips.

"Welcome Colonel Roy Mustang," he greeted, his voice booming around the large basement. "My name is Major General James Mallano and I am the one who orchestrated the incarceration and torture of your subordinate." It was only through sheer force of will that Roy stayed his hand, his fingers pressing tightly together. The bastard was bragging as if he'd done something wonderful for him. When he got his hands on him, there wouldn't be a body left to bury. The general might not have dirtied his hands physically, but as the mastermind, Ed's condition was more his fault than anyone else's. Mustang could almost smell flesh roasting. "I assure you Colonel, it was nothing personal. We needed a skilled alchemist to complete something for us, and the boy just wouldn't cooperate, and this is the result of such actions. I take no pleasure in doing this."

"Bullshit!" Roy all but snarled, onyx eyes burning as they glared up at Mallano. "You enjoy this. If I didn't know any better, I would say that you almost wanted it to end like this. And I don't know what you're doing to Major Elric, but I demand you put a stop to it now before things get uglier than you can handle, Major General." The acid in his words could have burned a hole through solid steel.

"Maybe you're right Colonel. I really should stop denying my sadistic side. A part of me did want it to end like this, with agonized screams. And now that's it's activated, there's nothing I can do to stop it. It will end when Elric's heart stops beating." The man paused to grin down at them, eyes twinkling in devilish pleasure. "Though demands Colonel? I don't believe you're in any position to be making demands. Not with your subordinate in this situation, powering up my secret weapon." He paused, a sinister laugh bursting from between his lips. "Would you like to see what Creta has been developing behind our borders? It will be the last thing you ever see." Mallano lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, maintaining eye contact with Mustang.

The far wall exploded, a metal arm reaching out from behind the concrete. Roy broke eye contact with the bastard, a sharp gasp rising in his throat as another blast shook the floor. The other hand had broken through the stone, its head and torso soon following. Damn. The thing was huge. As it shook the debris from its frame, its helmet grazed the ceiling, eerily familiar red eyes staring down at its targets. "Holy shit," he heard Riza curse next to his head, voicing the one thought he knew they all were having. Its head was a silver dome, a mouth opening and closing to reveal spikes that served as teeth. The torso was shined, dark crevices in the armor indicating where it might open to unleash devastating weaponry. Etched into long arms were intricate designs, created with acid so as to not blemish the armor more than necessary. The arms tapered off into slender hands, the fingers sharpened to deadly points. If any of them were grabbed, it might mean the end of them. Thick legs supported it massive weight, the feet similarly sized.

"So what do you think, Colonel Mustang? Impressive, yes? I believe it would be just enough to wipe Central off the map, don't you? And to think, all of this is powered by the energy in a single child's body. It's amazing what a blend of alchemy and engineering can do. If only the major could live, then perhaps I might be able to run tests on what kinds of machinery can run off a similar power source. It would be most intrigui-" A gunshot cut off the rest of his sentence, a cry of pain bubbling from his lips instead of the garbage it had been spewing. Roy shot Riza a grateful glance, noting the satisfied look on her face as smoke billowed from the tip of her pistol. "Damn you Amestrian bastards!" Major General Mallano cursed, clutching his leg, which was gushing blood thanks to the Hawk's Eye. "Don't blame me when you're choking on your own blood and straining for breath. You signed your own death contracts. GO!"

The trio scattered as the behemoth began to move, dust clouds rising with each step it took. The area was soon shaded with a haze of dirt and dust, making breathing difficult. "Colonel," Al yelled, only a few steps behind the man. "What do we do?" Roy coughed, glancing around for something that might shield them for a few moments while he thought of a plan. An upturned table caught his attention and without a second thought, he dove behind it, Hawkeye following him within moments. Al was not that much farther behind, having erected a sturdy wall to further shield them. In that time, Mustang had already formulated a rough action plan.

"We have one objective. The Major General had mentioned that Fullmetal's energy is powering the machine. If we can destroy the array that Ed's under, it might cut off the flow of energy and thus stopping it cold. Alphonse, I want you to destroy the circle by any means necessary. When that's done, get your brother as far away from here as possible. I will distract the machine so it won't target you." Riza shifted next to him, worry for his safety clouding her expression.

"And me, sir?" Roy sighed, flinching as something crashed near their hiding spot. They were running out of time.

"I want you to apprehend Mallano. We can't let him escape. If he struggles, you have full authorization to knock him out, but don't kill him. We're going to need him for questioning later." He smiled faintly at the surprise in her tawny eyes. Yea, he wanted to kill the bastard. But he still did have other objectives. Capturing a terrorist would put him in a good position with the higher ups, maybe even a good enough one to let him execute the Cretan personally. Another crash, this one close enough for them to feel the impact of the oversized foot as it collided with the ground. "Are you all clear with your orders?" They nodded, drawing another smirk to his lips. He felt weird giving Al orders; the boy wasn't even in the military. "One more thing." Riza frowned, her eyebrows crinkling. Of course she knew where he was going with this. "If I go down, worry about getting yourselves out. Edward is your first objective. Leave me behind." He locked eyes with his lieutenant, his words for the most part intended for her. She looked down, appearing to check the gun in her hand.

"Yes, sir." Her voice was strained. Sighing again, he yanked his gloves tighter on his hand, relishing the roughness against the nerve-rich skin of his palms.

"Alright. Move out."

As a fist crashed through the makeshift barrier, they ran their separate ways, Al sprinting towards his brother, Hawkeye off towards the Major General, and Roy in front of the machine, a cocky smirk lifting his lips. His right hand was raised in front of him, already in the position to snap. Eyes narrowed, his other hand curled into a fist in his pocket. C'mon, a little closer. The behemoth, searching for its prey, settled its eyes on him, the red glowing in the haze. Its hand reared back, preparing to slam its fist down and crush the alchemist. Heh, as if he'd go down that easy. "Too slow," he muttered, snapping his fingers. An explosion rocked its frame, flames licking the chest plate. As they faded, the only noticeable damage was to the finishing, the shiny plating seared off in the heat. So much for this being easy. He only hoped that Al was having more luck than he was.

FMAFMA

Al slid to a stop next to the array, Ed's weakened cries of pain alerting him to his lack of time. But he still didn't know what he could do. Surely just interrupting the flow of energy would be far too simple. Then again, he wouldn't know until he tried. Scratching a circle into the floorboards with the chalk that he always kept with him, he activated it, lifting half of the pedestal up higher than the other. Even as the slab containing the circle cracked, the transmutation didn't stop, his brother's screams only growing in strength, not like that was a good thing.

He straightened with a swallow, trying to figure out any possible ways to break his brother from this array. Mustang cried out somewhere nearby, shock punctuating the yelp. It was only a small relief that there was no pain in the man's voice, just surprise. Even so, the machine was getting far too close for comfort. He had to hurry. Ed whimpered, twisting on the center of the circle and dragging his brother's attention back to him.

Wait a minute... Ed was the central focus of the circle, the object that gave it power. Maybe if he removed Ed, the reaction would stop. It was worth a shot. Keeping Mustang's earlier warning in mind, he quickly transmuted a large pole from the nearby wall. With this, he jabbed at his brother, as gently as he could of course, pushing him from the circle's effects. However, even as the blond rolled off the platform, the circle remained active, the smaller copy on Ed following suite. Without the lighting of the transmutation blocking a good view of Ed, he looked cadaverous, the skin bearing a blueish-tint unrelated to the crackling energy surrounding him. Blood smeared across his body, originating from the carving on his back. "Al," the boy moaned deliriously, eyes cracking open to reveal glassy, deadened orbs. More than anything, even the sounds of battle ringing from behind him, this reminded him of his time constraint. This circle had to be stopped pretty damn soon or his brother would pay the price.

He just had to think; the answer was here somewhere. He was smarter than this. The suit of armor knelt by his brother, resting a gentle hand on the teen's metal shoulder in what he hoped was comfort. What did he already know about Cretan alchemy? The energy flowed through the lines and into the symbols of the array, but he'd already broken the lines that supposedly supplied the energy. There had to be something else. The symbols themselves dictated what the transmutation would do, and in Cretan Alchemy, the central symbol was most important, for it supplied the job of the array. In a human-like motion, the boy slapped his leather palm to his forehead, cursing his stupidity.

In a matter of moments, another array was chalked on the ground and activated, a large wooden spike penetrating the center of the circle, destroying the central element instantly. The crackle of alchemic energy faded around the brothers, relief bubbling inside of Al. He'd done it.

FMAFMA

Roy glanced back at Al, feeling energy leech from the air. The kid had done it. With a grin, he dodged yet another cannon shot. It turned out that the markings on the machine's arms were transmutation circles that turned the arms into cannons. Talk about annoying. Blood dribbled down his forehead from a minor cut where a rock, or some other form of debris, had struck his head. His gloves were rubbing his skin raw, the cloth beginning to wear down from the number of times he'd used them. He was definitely going to need a new pair when they got out of here.

As a foot landed near where he was standing, Mustang realized something, his eyes growing wide. The array had been deactivated, and yet...the behemoth was still moving. Shit; well there goes his theory. Obviously the array had only been supplying the power. If it was still moving, that meant it was storing the harvested energy somewhere. The Colonel snapped his fingers to trigger another explosion to get some distance between him and the giant robot, his head spinning slightly. He was definitely overusing his own alchemy, but it wasn't as if he had a choice in the matter. Keeping his feet moving, he flicked his eyes around the basement turned arena. He needed a plan yesterday.

Riza had already captured Major General Mallano, not like he had any doubt that she would. He could see the glint of her pistol hanging over the edge of the balcony, primed and ready to shoot if necessary. A large (and sharp) hand smashed the ground near his feet, sending him sprawling. Landing hard on his back, the air left his lungs in a whoosh, his already spinning head wheeling in response to the sudden pain. Roy's vision blinked, fizzing out for mere moments. When it came back, the hand was heading straight for him.

Coughing, he rolled to the side, the metal merely grazing him. A surge of adrenaline forced the man to his feet, the same rush also allowing him to momentarily forget his aches and pains. He staggered around, his dark gaze always on his attacker. Laughter finally reached him, crazed with maniacal glee. "You won't win Colonel. My engineers have thought of everything in its design, including the possibility that the power source might be destroyed or interrupted," the general cackled, the pain obviously getting him. "And for all you know, the boy might be dead. I'd bet my money on it. I'll be counting the seconds till your-" The gun disappeared behind the ledge for a moment, the words halting a mere instance after it fled.

Roy, as punch drunk as he was, giggled between his harsh breaths to restore the lost oxygen. Damn this dusty atmosphere. A creak next to his head informed him of another attack, and he dodged deftly to the side, whirling around to face his opponent. The machine stared him down, the cannon arm morphing back to its original shape. Forcing the fog from his mind, he steadied his breathing, scowling deeply. He knew Mallano was right. He didn't know how to beat this fucking machine and this entire escapade might have been for naught if Al hadn't stopped the circle in time. He could hear the younger boy calling for Ed, begging for a response, any response.

The behemoth reached forward as if to brush the Colonel aside, its hand outstretched as if to display the gleaming edges to each slender finger. Mustang dove between its massive legs, executing a roll before hauling himself upright and wheeling back around. There he froze, gaping at the sight before him. In relation to the front, the back of the beast was rather plain. But there was one detail that made it very, very important to Roy. Affixed to its neck was a large black box, marked with a rune that he knew well, especially after studying it for as long as he had. He'd found it, the power source.

With that little discovery, it was as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. He knew for certain that if he destroyed that, it would fall. If not, he was royally fucked, but he couldn't afford to think like that. Lifting his arm, he snapped his fingers, directing the explosion to the power box. The machine crashed to the ground, a shock wave shaking the earth. Mustang, now on his knees, risked glancing up at the metal beast and grinned, his lips smudged with dirt. It laid where it had fallen, sprawled on the wooden flooring like a squashed bug. But this feeling of euphoria was short lived.

"BROTHER! EDWARD!" Al screamed into the sudden silence, his voice all but trembling with fear. "C'mon Ed, open your eyes!" The smile dropped from Roy's lips, his eyes widening in fear. "Colonel!" the younger boy cried, seeing the man's eyes on him. "H-he's not breathing!"

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_DA: AND THE END!_

_Just kidding. Don't kill me. Please. I won't tell you what happens next but just trust me, ok? You'll like the ending, just don't kill me now. Sorry if my alchemy information is a little off, I'm doing a bit of guesswork here, so just bare with me._

_Anyways... Hot damn. 100 reviews already?! I wasn't expecting that... At all. Let's keep it up, ok? I have to go try and push out a short story for this theme month! Feel free to follow me on tumblr (URL is darkangelbk201) if you want to read the drabbles. I'll be doing one every day for the entire month of May. But so long for now! Don't forget to tell me what you think! See you all next week!_

_May your hearts stay strong,_

_DarkAngel555_


	14. Chapter 14

_DA: Hey guys! Sorry to leave you with that cliffhanger and all, but I didn't want to let you guys go yet. This is, for real, the last official chapter, not counting the epilogue that I will be posting next week. So anyways, without any further ado (With the exception of the disclaimer) let me introduce the final chapter of Darkness to Dawn!_

_Disclaimer: Yea, I own nothing..._

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Last time:

"_BROTHER! EDWARD!" Al screamed into the sudden silence, his voice all but trembling with fear. "C'mon Ed, open your eyes!" The smile dropped from Roy's lips, his eyes widening in fear. "Colonel!" the younger boy cried, seeing the man's eyes on him. "H-he's not breathing!"_

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Darkness to Dawn

Chapter 14

And that's when the Colonel's heart dropped into his stomach, cold as ice. Soft, quick footsteps approached from nearby, Riza racing by him to get to the brothers. He couldn't move, his breath coming in short bursts. Ed-no... He couldn't be dead... Not Ed... His hands, flat against the floor, curled into fists, trapping dirt in his palms.

So distracted was he, he didn't notice the low creaking noises emitting from the super weapon, nor a hand snaking its way towards him. His attention was snagged when its hand circled around him and snatched him from his position, head down, on the ground. A startled yelp left his lips, the knife-like fingers slicing into his sides. "Colonel!" Hawkeye yelled from the ground, her tawny gaze locked on him. She was kneeling by a pale and lifeless Ed, her fingers pressed against the crucial artery at his throat. He coughed, feeling blood bubble up his throat. A few ribs might have cracked during that grab.

"Don't worry about me!" he snapped at her. "Just help Ed!" Her eyes hardened, a worried scowl creasing her lips.

"But sir..."

"That's an order, lieutenant." Looking torn and more than slightly disturbed, she bent over the blond boy. The hand tightened around him, layering lacerations over one another. Another involuntary groan left his lips, black spots peppering his vision. He only hoped he could last long enough to be rescued. He hated to admit it, but with his hands wet with his own blood, he couldn't use his alchemy. This time, he really was useless.

FMAFMA

Ed felt as if he was floating, suspended on nothing but the cloud of this hazy thoughts. Someone was calling his name from beyond, but he found he lacked the energy to care. He wondered vaguely what was going on outside of this place of safety. He could hear crashes, explosions, -was that screaming?- gunshots pinging on metal. It sounded like a pretty intense battle.

His world began trembling, a sharp, pounding weight sinking on his chest. The teen wanted to push it from him, but lethargy had settled on his limbs. Air suddenly rushed into his lungs, the starving organs expanding to accommodate it. "Brother!" a voice screeched, far too much terror in that one word for his liking. Guilt managed to pierce his apathetic cocoon, the slight whisper of it bothering him more than he'd ever let on. He let his eyes slide shut, blackness blocking off the fog of grey.

_I'm sorry, Al._

His chest once again inflated against his will, clearing some of the cloud that had settled on his thoughts. A sharp, piercing scream lifted it further, the voice one he recognized. The man was in pain, and a lot of it. The pressure on his torso increased, something cracking inside him. The fog had lifted enough for him to feel the corresponding pain, not like he was able to act upon it. His limbs still weren't responding. "C'mon Ed," a woman murmured from somewhere above him, her breathless tone frustrated and worried. "Breathe dammit. You can't quit now."

With a gasp, his senses returned to him, light peeking out from beneath his eyelids, nose picking up on the scent of sawdust and the sharper smell of blood. His head pounded, lungs aching as if he were suffocating. "Ed? Ed can you hear me?" Metal clanked as if a suit of armor were wringing its hands, which was probably true. The thought brought a smile to his lips. Cold fingers pressed down on his neck, feeling around for something. "I've got a pulse. He's ok." Hands dragged him onto his side, rubbing his back gently.

"Thank you Miss Riza," Al whispered, tears filing his tone. Another scream.

"I've got to go Al. Take care of Ed." Ed's eyes drifted open just in time to watch Hawkeye run off towards the scream, his sight blurry at best. In the distance, a large machine stood, holding something in its hand. His vision sharpened for a moment, enough time to watch Mustang wriggle in the creature's grasp, his face white with pain. Dirt smudged his royal blue uniform, scorch marks scattered on the cloth. As the boy lost his clarity, scarlet dripped out from between the fingers.

So the bastard got himself hurt. Surprise surprise. "Is Ed alright?" Roy yelled, to Hawkeye presumably, his voice straining.

"He's fine, sir," the lieutenant responded. Was that anger in her voice? He couldn't tell, his head far too fuzzy. "How badly injured are you?" A grunt of pain, Mustang shifting in the machine's grasp.

"A few broken ribs. Nothing that bad."

"Are you aware that you are _bleeding_, sir?" Huh, now Hawkeye seemed concerned. Did Mustang finally break himself? Serves him right for jumping into a situation that didn't even involve him anyway. Ed forced open eyes he hadn't realized had closed, clouds clearing to allow him to see.

The machine had started moving again, the hand holding the Colonel beginning to swing around. Blood dripped onto the ground at an alarming rate, a muffled groan leaving the man's throat. "I am?" He sounded confused, dazed even. Shit, that wasn't good.

"Colonel!" It turned around, storming off in another direction. And that's when Ed saw it, the black box attached to the monster's neck. It blinked, a green light flickering near the top. The machine shifted and Mustang let out another unearthly howl. If he wasn't aware before that he had open wounds, he was now. The young alchemist knew what he had to do.

He shifted slightly to free his plastered arm from its sling, his other arm turning in the dirt so the palm faced upwards. "Brother?" Al questioned, his voice curious. Shit, his younger brother was closer than he had thought. If Al caught wind of his plan, he would stop him. He had to move fast. Ignoring the sharp burst of pain in his still healing arm, he slammed his hands together and quickly pressed his good hand to the ground. The air lit up with blue energy, traveling along the ground until it met the spot directly behind the super weapon.

The flooring arched up, creating a sharp and powerful spire. It continued its ascent until it crashed into the power storage unit, the tip breaking off upon impact. But the box didn't budge. Gritting his teeth, Ed poured more energy than he actually had into the transmutation, vision flickering along the edges. The spire rammed harder into the unit, the metal creaking in protest. Leather hands scrambled to pull his hand from the ground, a high-pitched voice pleading for him to stop. But this he ignored as well, sharp golden eyes staring at his creation.

With one last shove, the box snapped off, clattering to the ground at the creature's feet. Silence filled the rather large room for a moment. Then Mustang slid from the clawed hand, scarlet trails raining down behind him. Half-mast onyx eyes met an unfocused, but fiery gold, faint relief shining briefly before the irises dragged upwards and the eyes slid closed. Ed's vision finally flickered out, following Mustang in unconsciousness. Both were oblivious to the concerned cries that flew through the air, begging for them to awaken.

FMAFMA

Ed moaned as he woke, his entire body throbbing in unison. What hit him? A high speed truck? Had to be. Anything less than that wouldn't cause _this_ much pain. "You awake Fullmetal?" Fantastic. Just fucking fantastic. Maybe he could fool him into thinking he was still out.

"G'way..." his lips mumbled against his will. Mustang chuckled, the guffaws tapering off into a wince.

"Always the sarcasm with you."

"Always the asshole responses with you." He opened his eyes to glare at the man, but stopped, suddenly taken aback by Mustang's appearance. Instead of sitting next to his bed with that asshole smirk on his face, the Colonel was in the bed next to his, a watered down version of that smirk balanced on shaking lips. His jet black hair was unkempt, oily strands hanging in front of a pair of exhausted eyes. Those eyes, though as sharp as ever, were shadowed by dark bags, emphasizing the paleness of his skin. Bandages poked out from behind a loose, green, hospital-issue shirt, wound tight around his chest. "What the hell happened to you?" The man's expression froze, becoming forced not even a second later.

"Let's just say machines don't exactly take kindly to being burned." With a grunt, Ed pushed himself upright, cocking an eyebrow at his superior officer.

"No shit. And you were assaulting a robot because..."

"A comrade was in danger. Naturally, I did all I could to save him. And that happened to include tussling with a giant super weapon." At his words, Ed opened his mouth only to close it, a strange look dropping over his face. Flashes of images invaded his mind: a large room, blue, crackling energy, a machine towering over him, blood dripping from its fingers.

"I didn't ask you to risk your ass to save me," he snapped, noting the pull in his lower back. Mustang's eyes widened slightly, the only outward sign of his shock.

"No... You didn't," the older man said slowly. "But I did so anyway." Ed sputtered, his face flushing. Whether in anger or embarrassment, neither was sure.

"I-You-It-UGH! YOU BASTARD!" The boy threw himself back onto the bed, turning his back to Mustang and yanking the sheets up. Mustang laughed quietly to himself as if he understood. Bastard. The door opened, a large, clanking mass entering the room.

"Hello Alphonse."

"Good afternoon Colonel," Al greeted brightly. "Did I miss anything?"

"Just your brother swearing at me. He's pretending to sleep right now."

"Ah. Did he seem alright?" A worried note entered Al's voice, Ed's heart clenching slightly at hearing it.

"He was fine. The doctor's had nothing to be worried about."

"They had plenty to be worried about. His heart stopped for five minutes!" Ed stiffened beneath the covers, body going cold. He'd died? He certainly didn't remember that. Oh shit. Al must have been worried sick. "But you're sure he seemed fine?"

"He seemed like his irritated self to me. Yelled at me for saving him."

"That's just his way of showing gratitude. When have you ever heard Ed say 'thank you'?" Another chuckle.

"True."

"Is there anything I can get you, Colonel?" At the mundane turn the conversation had gone, Ed let his mind wander. Soon, he was lost to the land of dreams.

FMAFMA

_Run dammit! Run Bastard! It's going to get you!_

_Ed's body was stiff and paralyzed; he could only think angrily at the man running from a blood thirsty machine. Mustang turned occasionally to shoot fire at the hunk of metal, but to no avail. The robot's hand swiped down, very nearly slicing the dark-haired man to ribbons. Ed tried to move, to help the Colonel in any way he could. Hot tears leaked from his eyes, dripping down icy cheeks. Move! C'mon! He had to move! _

_Muscles twitched at his call, but did no more than that, much to his frustration. "Mustang!" he screamed, mouth finally moving. The man in question froze and turned, the exact opposite of what Ed wanted him to do. "No you idiot! Run! It's catching up!" The look of horror that dropped across Mustang's features unsettled the young alchemist to the core. The man began to run towards him, again working in opposition to what he needed him to do. "No! Get away! Run aw-" The creature swung downwards, the sharp claws colliding with Mustang's head._

He screamed, shooting upright in bed. Gasping, his head fell into the cold metal of his palm, sweat trickling from between his fingers. Rustling from the bed next to his reminded him that he wasn't alone. He had to pull himself together, but his body trembled involuntarily, a result of a surge of adrenaline. "Ed?" an oddly caring voice questioned, one his dream muddled brain assumed dead. He tensed, peeking out with bloodshot eyes at the form next to his bed.

"Mustang?" he whispered hoarsely, relief touching his tone.

"Are you alright?"

"Why did you do it?" The sudden question caught them both by surprise. Mustang hesitated, his sharp, concerned gaze dropping to his own bedsheets.

"Well... Why do you care that my protecting you got me injured?"

"I-I can take care of myself. I don't need you to protect me like a child." The older man smiled slightly, recognizing the statement for what it was.

"You and I both know that's not the reason." Ed hesitated for a moment, his pale face clearly troubled.

"Maybe I care whether you get yourself hurt doing something stupid. I don't want anyone getting hurt for my sake." Mustang nodded slightly, as if accepting the response.

"And I care about what happens to you Ed. It may not seem like it, but I genuinely care about what happens to you. So if you are in harm's way, I will do whatever I can to get you out of that situation and protect you. I cannot let a child under my care die." Ed slowly raised his head, golden eyes wide. A warm feeling enveloped his heart, a caring he hadn't felt in years. A smile pulled at the corners of his lips, the fear finally leeching from his expression.

"And I can't let a bastard like you die before your time." Mustang's eyes narrowed playfully, mirth sparkling in the dark pools.

"Don't push your luck Fullmetal. Just because I'm in this hospital bed doesn't mean I can't use my alchemy." Ed scowled back at him, resting his automail arm over his broken one.

"You wouldn't dare." The older man smiled, the expression somewhat eerie in the dark.

"Watch me." The blond resisted the somewhat demanding urge to chuck a pillow at his superior officer, rolling his eyes instead.

"Just shut up and go to sleep Colonel Jackass. I'm not going to listen to Hawkeye yell at me for not letting you get your rest." He too allowed himself to slide back in between his sheets, his dream all but forgotten.

"Goodnight Edward. Pleasant dreams." Smiling slightly to himself, he rolled over, his metal hand digging underneath his pillow.

"Ditto Mustang." The dark-haired man just shook his head and followed his subordinate's lead, leaning back as far as his wounds would let him. He dropped into a medicine induced unconsciousness that he'd been fighting off for some time now, darkness washing over him. Their grins kept until morning, when Riza, Al, and Winry walked in to check on them, worried by the overall silence in the room.

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_DA: Not very long, but I think it wraps everything up pretty nicely. I'll wrap up a few more loose ends next week._

_I feel like I'm running out of things to say to you guys. So I'm gonna keep this short. Thanks for reading and tell me what you think! I have to go study for my finals now... Ugh.._

_May your hearts stay strong,_

_DarkAngel555_


	15. Chapter 15

_DA: Well, I guess this is it guys! I'm gonna save my ramblings till after the epilogue. So enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, but the plot of this story remains with me._

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Darkness to Dawn

Epilogue

Ed pulled at his clothing as he approached the gate to Central Headquarters, an irritated scowl etched on his face. Al walked behind him, hovering like an ever present babysitter. After weeks of sitting in the hospital without the feel of tight leather on his skin, the sensation of his standard clothing wasn't exactly comfortable. But that wasn't what was bugging him. How the hell was he going to face the Colonel after that night in the hospital? Mustang had been discharged shortly after the scene, giving neither time to consider how they might act towards one another. Ed wasn't sure he'd be able to keep up an honest argument going. "Are you alright Brother?" Al asked, voice light as it had been all day. The younger boy was simply overjoyed that his brother was finally out of the hospital.

Ed sighed, letting his gloved hands drop to his sides. "I'm fine, Al. Just not looking forward to getting bitched out by the bastard Colonel," he responded, trying to keep annoyance alone in his tone.

"You shared a hospital room with him Brother. I'm sure if he didn't yell at you then, you have nothing to worry about." He huffed, blowing a strand of his bangs from his face.

"He was just high off of pain killers. The thought didn't occur to him. It will now." Al just laughed behind him and shook his head, nudging gently as his brother's back. The blond shot him a glare and pushed open the gate, storming through. He stomped through the hallways of the military building, aiming his glare at anyone who dared even look at him. The acid in his gaze was enough to keep any unwanted attention away from him, their stares skittering away once the molten gold touched their own. He came to a stop at the bastard's door, frowning harshly at the wooden barrier. "Well, go on Brother. Keeping him waiting won't help either of you."

Throwing his brother another look, he lifted his hand, the metal one, and knocked loudly on the door before opening it. The group inside glanced up at the sudden intrusion, light smiles adorning each of their faces. "Hello, Edward," Hawkeye greeted, nodding at the boys. He smiled, the expression shaky. Havoc stood, his chair sliding away from him, and walked over to the alchemist, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey boss!" he said, slapping the boy on the back. "You're looking well. It's good to have you back." Smoke wafted in front of Ed's face, the cigarette smoke a somewhat comforting smell after the strong disinfectants of the hospital. The others announced their agreement at the 2nd lieutenant's statement, their words reassuring the teen. Stepping away from Havoc's hand, he walked over to the door to Mustang's inner office.

"Go right on in, Edward. He's waiting for you," Hawkeye said, her expression softening at his hesitation. She knew, somehow. She always fucking knew everything when it came to Mustang. He didn't know how, and frankly, he didn't want to know how. But he still smiled at her, though it appeared more like a grimace, and twisted the door handle in his grasp. He yanked it open with his usual flair, letting it slam back on the wall, and stormed in, his glare painted on his visage.

Mustang looked up at the noise, a black eyebrow arched at the flashy show. A smirk instantly curved his lips and he placed his pen gently down next to his stack of paperwork, relief cooling his insides at the sight of the kid alive and well. Ed pulled the door shut behind him and stomped up to his desk, golden eyes fiery as they stared into cool onyx. The energy in the gaze wasn't as strong as it usually was, a mixture of emotions swimming behind that gaze. After a few minutes of staring, Ed sighed, dropping his eyes to the desk. "Look, Mustang..." he started.

"Late as always, eh Fullmetal?" Mustang questioned at the same time, watching with amusement as the boy's head jerked up, confusion flashing through his face. That confusion melted to a sudden surge of anger, the words just registering in Ed's mind.

"I was just discharged from the hospital you ass!" The Colonel leaned back in his chair, a pleased expression on his face.

"My sources tell me that you stood in front of the entrance to Central Headquarters for fifteen minutes, Fullmetal. Have trouble reaching the handle?"

"I AM NOT SO TINY THAT I NEED A STEPLADDER TO REACH THE DOOR HANDLE YOU BASTARD!" Roy chuckled, his arms crossing in front of him.

"Yes, yes. So anyway, onto business. The danger from Creta has been diffused for the time being and the Fuhrer given me a commendation for achieving such a task." Ed's eyes narrowed, a scowl creasing his face.

"Manipulative bastard," he mumbled beneath his breath.

"However, he didn't request that I submit a report on the events leading up to the arrest of the Major General, so you're off the hook this time for the mission report. Understand that this is the only time I won't make you write a report." Ed's expression eased slightly, understanding erasing the anger. Maybe the bastard did have a heart after all. He hadn't been looking forward to reliving what happened just so Mustang could read it. A small smile ghosted over his lips.

"So any new leads for me then, bastard?" Mustang smiled as well, his hands leafing through a stack of files on the side of his actual paper work.

"Actually I do." He gently eased a certain file from the middle of the pile, handing it to the boy across from him.

"Ever hear of the desert city of Liore?"

* * *

_DA: Not very long, I know, but I thought it wrapped everything up very nicely. I hope you all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!_

_I have no sequel planned for this story because, as you can tell, I melded it right into the start of the manga/brotherhood/2003 anime. However, I might reappear every now and then with a few one-shots for you all to enjoy! _

_Right, thank yous. I wish to thank you all for taking the time to read this story and an extra special thank you goes to anyone who has placed this story on their follows and favorites lists. And a gigantic thank you goes to everyone who review this story, as each review inspired me to write a bit more and I love you all for it. I actually meant to do a list of everyone who favorited, followed, and reviewed this story, but time ran away from me this week so I apologize for that. But those of you who did any of these things know who you are. _

_I want to thank my best friend, Sarenna, who continued to encourage me to finish this story and tolerated me while I bounced ideas off her. I know I must have been all sorts of annoying, but thank you nonetheless. She actually came up with the idea for the function of the array, so I owe her quite a bit. If it wasn't for her, I might not have finished this story. But now, I've finished my first novel-length story and I'm incredibly thankful._

_Well, this is it then... Isn't it? I'm proud of the way _Darkness to Dawn_ turned out and I'm glad that so many of you enjoyed as well. My PM inbox is always open for those of you who want to talk or have an idea that you want me to write. Thank you all for sticking with me for this long and I hope to hear from you all again real soon!_

_May your hearts stay strong,_

_DarkAngel555_


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